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Fury
ComNet Overlord
Imperial Duke

 
Fury
 
[VE-ARMY] Moff
[VE-ICS] Baron Administrator
[VE-VEHC] Moff
 
Post Number:  2639
Total Posts:  2664
Joined:  Jun 2000
Status:  Offline
  Revival
December 15, 2015 12:24:12 AM    View the profile of Fury 
The Gozanti cruiser Ash Williams defolded from hyperspace and launched the alert fighters. Three other ships emerged moments later, another Gozanti and two Lancer frigates.

In nearspace of a dozen former Vast Empire worlds, similar expedition fleets were doing the same, launching probe droids and setting a tactical fighter screen.

Initially the all clear was tentatively issued from each commander. It wasn't that space was empty over each world. Just because the Vast Empire had decamped did not mean everyone had left as well. For a host of reasons the experiment in keeping order in this region of space had failed. Some of them were legitimate, others just an excuse to leave. Those real problems still needed fixing, and that was why he was here.

Someone - it was hard to decipher who - had issued a recall message on a Naval High Command channel. He'd had a team of slicers trying to figure out if it was legit. It was tagged as coming from Admiral Stormz, and it had every chance of looking as if he was trying to reassemble the fleet, not to mention the whole outfit to boot.

And so, Fury - might as well get used to being called that again - had a tailor clean up a few uniforms, had some military vessels taken out of storage and had the ICDF muster out for the first time in a long time other than taking care of pirates and wayward rebel bands in the Thilidian Sector.

He hadn't poked his head outside of those worlds in two years. Sure, he'd send out a merchant fleet but always let someone else do the heavy lifting outside of the asteroid belt. He'd lost a lot when the galaxy decided it was time to beat up on this piece of space, but other than the arm and eye, maybe there was still a little bit more to give.

So, now his ships were back, and if necessary, soon the whole of Imperial Center Enterprises. Paler had commed in from Etchik. Other than some minor looting, The Etchik facilities were solid and the orbital factory was due in two days time.

Here, over Lotaith, he requested the Golan platforms to start hypering in from their pre-deployed positions. Closer to the former capital world, clusters of ships were already in position. Former naval fleet vessels, some showing heavy repair work. A lot of commercial and cargo craft, apparently used to working in tandem.

The comm feed was busy. Lots of laughter, underlied with coded traffic between the various groups. Old home week.

He smiled. Maybe you *could* go home again.




OOC:
Welcome back folks. What is your backstory? Where have you been for the past two years if not over at the Empire's Edge? Heck, catch the rest of us up for those who haven't.
OO/Moff Fury/HC/LOTAITH/VE [MoHx4][SCPx3][PoC][SotE:HC][SotE:VEA][SCP][MSMx2][IOC]
Operations Officer - High Council
Baron Administrator - Imperial Center
[This message has been edited by Fury (edited December 15, 2015 12:24:48 AM)]
[This message has been edited by Fury (edited December 15, 2015 1:04:21 PM)]
Drac
ComNet Disciple
 
Drac
 
[VE-DJO] Initiate
[VE-NAVY] Line Captain
[VE-VEMC] 2nd Lieutenant
 
Post Number:  2061
Total Posts:  2189
Joined:  Jan 2009
Status:  Offline
  RE: Revival
December 15, 2015 12:44:04 AM    View the profile of Drac 
OOC:
Placeholder for my post. Trust me, a post is coming quickly. Screw the fact that I'm at work, there's a story to post on in the Vast Empire and I'm freaking stoked! This...is actually mostly here to express that excitement. Post coming soon!


The office door slid open quietly, “Sir?”

“Yes, Warrant Officer?”

“We’ve received a message, sir.”

Warrant Officer Briekjaving’s voice was higher than usual, his tone unsure. That was odd. Apparently this was no routine message notification. The officer looked up from his desk, frowning at the crewman who served as his administrative assistant. “What is it, Mr. Briekjaving?”

The blonde-haired human held out a datacard. “It’s encrypted, sir. High Command level access only.” 

Reaching forward, the alien officer accepted the proffered card, his dark blue skin contrasting sharply with the man’s pale flesh.  Bulbous orange eyes narrowed as he read the security code on its small screen, then widened. “Thank you, Warrant Officer. That will be all for now.”

The pair exchanged salutes and the non-com left the room. Line Captain Dracule “Drac” Mihawk, once of the Vast Empire Navy, set the card down on his desk and stared at it for a moment. He breathed deeply of the humid air in the room, long ago set for his personal preference. Then he nodded, and entered the appropriate response code.

No holoimage appeared- at least, not one of a person. Instead, a letter hovered shining above his desk:

Officers & Soldiers of the Vast Empire,

Greetings,

What was lost two years ago need not remain lost….


Drac read through the rest of the message, then read the whole thing twice more, before he finally sat back and closed his eyes. Was it possible? Could everything that finally combined to destroy the Vast Empire be reversed? He fought against the despair that had crystallized inside him the day of that final, bitter fall. He wanted to hope, but was it a realistic hope? For that matter, was the message itself real? Was it trustworthy? He couldn’t discount the possibility of a trap. After all, a ship such as the Halcyon Warrior would be a significant prize for any of the various factions that still fought over the galaxy. Even in her current state. The same applied to the other ships at his command.

He grimaced. In the end, there really wasn’t much choice. Mark II Imperial Star Destroyers, and other military ships, required considerable material support for proper maintenance. The small cluster of planets he’d taken under his wing…well, really, had taken over…had done what they could. But between the necessity of keeping a relatively low profile and less than prime position relative to the main trading corridors, things were starting to wear down. He could string things along for a while longer, but given the resources at hand he was realistically looking at having to either turn to conquest/piracy in search of more resources or having to mothball or destroy the Halcyon Warrior within two years.

That made it pretty simple, really.

Real or not, trap or not, he couldn’t afford not to answer this summons. ‘And besides,’ he thought, looking at the signature line on the message, ‘it’ll be good to see old friends.

The Mon Calamari tapped a specific code into the comms control unit on his desk. Facing the holoprojector, he began speaking the message that would go out to the ship captains that were still with him, “This is Line Captain Mihawk issuing a recall order. All ships are to rendezvous with the Halcyon Warrior immediately.” He paused, breathing deeply, “Gentlemen, we are assembling the Fleet. Not our little group of survivors…the Fleet, at Lotaith.  I can’t guarantee it’s not a trap. We’ll need to be ready for anything.”

He signed off, then stood and headed for the bridge. He had preparations to make. Behind him, the message still shone, at least until the timer ended. It began to fade from top to bottom, with the signature line lingering longest:

Signed,
Vice Admiral Stormz
Naval Commander in Chief, Vast Imperial Navy


-----12 hours later-----

“Reversion in three…two…one…”

The brilliant tunnel of light that was hyperspace resolved into pinpoints. Ahead, a blue and green ball floated in the void. Around the Halcyon Warrior, five other ships reverted in a screening formation: one Imperial II-class heavy frigate, three CR-90 corvettes, and a Carrack-class light cruiser.

And further out, spread across the system, were more ships. There were quite a number of them, actually, moving gracefully or parked in orbit. And as Drac stood near the center of the bridge and watched, two more reverted a couple hundred kilometers away. The ship’s systems didn’t show any hostiles moving to intercept….no laser fire flashed through space....all the starfighters within detection range remained in tight patrol patterns around their home ships….this might just be the real thing. The bridge collectively let out the breath they'd been holding in relief.

Behind him, the comm unit built into his captain’s console pinged. Drac smiled. In a way, they’d died and gone through purgatory. Time to see what came next.
TFC/CAPT Drac/ISD II Halcyon Warrior/TF: Besh/1Flt/FC/VEN/VE
Captain of the ISD II Halcyon Warrior
[SoA][MC1][MC2x2][NSR1][NT1][SoV][CBV][SoL][SWC][NSR][GCR][GWC][*AO*](=*A*=)(=*SA*=)
"Think Ackbar, but Imperial."

TRN/INI Drac/VEDJ
[This message has been edited by Drac (edited December 15, 2015 2:17:21 PM)]
Trykon
ComNet Sage
 
Trykon
 
[VE-DJO] Dark Jedi Warrior
[VE-NAVY] Rear Admiral
 
Post Number:  3582
Total Posts:  3754
Joined:  Feb 2011
Status:  Offline
  RE: Revival
December 15, 2015 6:13:46 PM    View the profile of Trykon 
Zev Trikarian took the message in private, in his stateroom.  The hologram that materialized was a familiar likeness: a tall, furry figure, wearing an Imperial Admiral’s uniform.

“I must say, Stormz, this is a surprise,” Trikarian said.  The usually-reserved Kuati wasn’t quite grinning, but it was a near thing.

The image wavered for a moment, distorted briefly by the immense distances it had been transmitted.  “Didn’t expect me to contact you, after Corellia?” the Wookiee hologram asked.

Trikarian quirked an eyebrow in confusion, then felt his brows knit together as he considered the subtext of the question.  “Didn’t expect you to be alive, after Corellia,” he corrected.

The huge alien seemed to shuffle, as if he was awkwardly - painfully - shifting his considerable weight.  “Not dead yet,” he said gruffly.

“So I see,” Trikarian said.  “Forgive me, Admiral: I mean to say I’m very glad to see you up and about, of course.”

The Wookiee waved away the pleasantry.  “It’s... good to see you too,” he said, stiffly.  “You’ve done well for yourself,” he added pointedly.

Realization dawned for Trikarian, and manifested as a lump in his throat and the sensation of being hit in the stomach.  It was followed almost immediately by a flash of rage.  He crossed his arms.  “For myself?!” he repeated, more angrily than he’d intended.  “And just what, exactly, is that supposed to mean?”

The hologram stared at him for a moment before answering.  “You’ve gone Warlord, Zev,” Stormz said evenly.  “You commandeered the Navy’s best ships two years ago, and now you rule a half dozen little worlds as an absolute dictator.  You even claim the right to succeed the late Emperor.”

Trikarian took a deep breath, hugging his arms tightly around himself, then uncurled as he exhaled.  “Stormz, we served together a long time: you know me better than that.”

“Apparently I don’t.”

Trikarian scowled.  “Your ship was burning in space, Admiral!  Your command deck had been hit.  And even if I’d known you were alive, there was no way for you to continue to lead the Fleet from that fiery wreck.  I had to assume command!”

“And... retreat?” the holographic figure added.

Yes, and retreat!” Trikarian snapped.  “The battle was lost.  I had to preserve as much of the Navy as I could and fall back.  It was the only reasonable course of action.”

“And after that... reasonable course of action?” the Wookiee pressed.

“After that,” Trikarian said, “things got worse.  Lotaith was a madhouse, by the time we got back.  Thanks to the Corellians’ dratted Barrier technology, our campaign had lasted much longer than we’d expected, and Lotaith had had no news of our fate.  Well, while the Third Fleet was off getting our asses handed to us, the Vast Empire’s home territory was apparently being squeezed on all sides.  I went to make a full report, only to find the High Council was gone.  All of them, Admiral: gone.  Rumors were swirling about assassinations, kidnappings, defections.  Others said the Counselors were all off on secret missions or diplomatic intrigues.  But nobody knew.  In that moment, I was the senior military man in the VE; I had to make sense of it all.  I had to bring order to the chaos.”

“And so you went rogue, rather than face your responsibilities.”

“I don’t know where you’re getting this fantasy holonovel, Admiral,” Trikarian said, “but it’s just as insulting as it is fictional.  I did not 'go rogue.'  You, Stormz, forced me to do what I did next.  Your shortsighted paranoia meant that you had never formally ratified the chain of succession in the Navy, instead trusting that the High Council would know what to do in the event of your death.  With that entire group missing, I again had no choice: I took the single task force which you had assigned to me, and I went looking for our leaders!  Moff Kadann, Senator Sharpe, the others; they had to be found.  I left the bulk of our forces at home, with orders to guard the fort, and I set out to assist - and if necessary, rescue - the members of the High Council.  I could do nothing else: thanks to you, without their approval I couldn’t even exercise executive powers myself.  Unless I had been willing to go rogue, as you so charmingly put it, which I was not.”

The hologram just stared back, impassively.

Trikarian sighed.  Reliving that desperate, confusing time had left the aging Kuati emotionally exhausted.  “Believe what you want, sir,” he said, “but the truth is that I have never wavered in my commitment to the Imperial cause.  I rule, here, that’s true enough.  But I do so with the blessing of Senator Sharpe, the only member of the VE’s High Council I was able to track down.  The Vast Empire continued to crumble while we were away, so by the time I linked up with her, she ordered me to take up the mantle of Regent, and found a new polity here in the Ejj Sector.  I followed orders.  And yes, we have done quite well, out here.  But it’s the propagandists who call me Palpatine’s heir, Stormz.  I’m just an officer, trying to protect as many citizens of the Empire as I can.”

A low growl rumbled from the hologram.  “There are Imperial citizens still alive, in the Vast Empire’s former holdings,” Stormz said after a moment.

“And?”

“And so, they need your protection, too.  Grand Moff Kadann has returned, Zev, and I’m reorganizing the Navy to meet his call for a resurgence.  I’ve recalled all the scattered units.  We’re meeting in a few days.  I called you because… I need you, too.”

Trikarian felt the muscles in his jaw working.  “I… I can’t leave my people unprotected, Stormz.”  He paused.  The Wookiee waited him out.  “But I can spare a task force.  I’ll be at your rendezvous, Admiral.”

Storm opened his mouth as if to speak.

Trikarian cut him off: “But two years is a long time, Admiral.  A long time, to fight on without support.  Without any help.  I'll come to your rendezvous, Admiral.  I'll even bring the ships I commanded two years ago.  But just so we're perfectly clear: the vessels belong to the Second Empire, now.  And their crews follow my orders.”

Stormz roared, then gritted his teeth.  “I'll send you the coordinates.”  And then the transmission was cut off.

Trikarian massaged his temples.  “Well,” he said to his empty quarters, “this ought to be just like old times.”
Naval High Command
CNO/Rear Admiral Trykon/NHC/VEN/VE

Second Vast Imperial Fleet
SCAP/RADM Wyl "Trick" Trykon/ISD Adjudicator/TF:A/3Flt/FC/VEN/VE

Decorations
[*IG*][*AO*][WM0][HNS][1NS][2NS][3NS][LSM][BWC][SWC][GWC][PWC][CC:4][CNQST]
[NSM][E][NAR][NDM][MSMx2][SoA][CoB.][VC:B][VC:S][VC:G][VC:E][SoV][LoM][DSM][NC][IGC]

(=*AE*=)(=*SAE*=)(=*TG*=)(=*SCFE*=)(=*FOCE*=)

SM/DWR Trykon/Dark Jedi/Shades/Raven L-04/DJO/VE [EoP]
[This message has been edited by Trick (edited December 15, 2015 9:22:59 PM)]
[This message has been edited by Trick (edited December 15, 2015 9:26:17 PM)]
[This message has been edited by Trick (edited December 15, 2015 9:37:14 PM)]
[This message has been edited by Trick (edited December 15, 2015 9:39:42 PM)]
Havock
ComNet Marshal
 
Havock
 
[VE-ARMY] Brigadier General
[VE-DJO] Krath Priest(ess)
[VE-ICS] Intelligence Lesbian
[VE-VEHC] Brigadier General*
 
Post Number:  2284
Total Posts:  2413
Joined:  Feb 2009
Status:  Offline
  RE: Revival
December 15, 2015 8:10:42 PM    View the profile of Havock 
There was an overpowering, unforgettable stench that always accompanied the sun rise at Kuat shipyards. Ayme Katash  had spent three months working at the shipyards to pay off her debt for a slightly miscalculated landing and a subsequent surprisingly large explosion. After her initial three months the former stormtrooper decided she really had no better place to be and 21 months later she was still working as a mechanic.

“Hey you.”

The voice sounded distant and totally unfamiliar. Which was common  given how many travelers came through the nearby busy spaceport.

“Hey.” A series of loud clanks caused Ayme to wince from her prone position under a hopeless landspeeder, as the man used a hydrospanner to knock on the metal. “You deaf under there?”

“No but I will be if you keep that up.” Ayme muttered to herself. She made no effort to move from her task much to the mans distain.

A grizzled face appeared in her peripheral vision as he peered under the fuselage. “Havock?”

Ayme turned slowly towards the face invading her space, and with a growl pushed herself out from under the speeder. The speeder jumped as the back of his head collided with the vehicle.

“Who the hell are you? And how the hell do you know that name?” Ayme glared at the man as she wiped her hands on a shop rag.

He was still rubbing the back of his head as he replied, “I’m from Lotaith. I was sent to find you, and let me tell you it was not easy. “

Ayme scoffed. “Listen, I don’t know what game you’re playing, but there is no Lotaith. So either point me towards your ride that needs repair or get your ass out of my way.”

He moved closer which sent Ayme’s hand reflexively to her tool belt where a blaster used to reside.

“General I’m not looking for trouble, I’m just supposed to give you this holotape.” He held up the disk and placed it on the  hood of the speeder.

Her eyes followed the slow movement carefully. “I haven’t been called Havock or General for years. Everyone I knew when I was called by those names is dead, and I have no desire to chase ghosts. You bringing this up makes me real interested in making a ghost out of you though.”

He nodded. “Like I said, I’m not looking for trouble. Watch the holo and decide for yourself. Doesn’t seem like transportation will be your issue General.” With a half hearted salute the man turned and disappeared into the dirty mist that covered the shipyard.

Ayme looked around at the familiar faces following their predictable routines as they moved between broken vehicles and transports. Nothing seemed out of place to her as her eyes scanned for some hidden trap. She had searched for what was left of the Vast Empire after their fall and found fragments but nothing close to salvageable. The inevitable end of that quest is what led her to the armpit of the galaxy she was currently residing in. 

With a sigh she reached over and lifted the holotape. “Ah what the hell, not like you had anything exciting planned for today anyway right?”

Walking to her personal transport she waved at her droid, B2, as she walked past and made herself comfortable in front of the terminal. The holo flashed to life and a short simple message appeared on the screen.

Ayme frowned as she let the words sink in then slowly started to smirk. “I’ll be damned, B2, looks like we are going on a field trip. Let’s plot a course to Lotaith.”


OOC:
woot there it is
Prefect of the Army
PRF | BGN Ayme 'Havock' Katash | VEA | VE
SM | KPT Ayme 'Havock' Katash | Krath | Shades | Raven 3 | DJO | VE
IL | CPT Havock | Broken Bitch | Eyesore | Osk
[EW1] [RoT] [RoM] [CRoM] [CoH] [RCoD] [PoC]
{HoTC} {KAD} {GC} {GS} {RES} {MRT}
(ESC09) (AoT) (DoH-P) (AS-4) (A13) (A5) (1.1) (1.2)
(KC2) (SoY)
Imperial Network Star Wars Image
Trevor Evenson
ComNet Member
 
Trevor Evenson
 
[VE-DJO] Uninitiate
[VE-NAVY] Lieutenant
 
Post Number:  846
Total Posts:  860
Joined:  Aug 2005
Status:  Offline
  RE: Revival
December 15, 2015 11:09:49 PM    View the profile of Trevor Evenson 
A scream of pain echoed around the darkened room, loud enough to drown out the music coming from the bar the floor above. In the centre of the room was the source of the scream, a dark haired man who was tied to a chair. Around him stood a circle of four generally well dressed men, their faces unflinching despite the man's screams. A fifth man stood between the chair and a small table littered with tools, pliers in hand. With a sharp flick of his wrist he tossed a bloody fingernail to the floor, then lined the pliers up and grabbed hold of the next nail.

“Oh God, not again! I've already told you, I don't know what happened to the weapons shipment! Our freighter was attacked and they took everything!” The man tired to the chair yelled between gasps for air. He glanced down at his ruined fingers before looking back up at the man with the pliers. “You've got to believe me, guys. Dacthy?” He pleaded, looking first to the man in front of him, then to the man on his left, before stopping on the man with the pliers. “Jner? Trevor? Please?!”

The men around the circle exchanged glances before Jner spoke up. “Look, Aaron. I wish we could believe you, but the recordings and logs show it clear as day. You and your crew did nothing, and I mean nothing, to prevent what happened. Some of your men literally held the doors open for the guys as they offloaded our weapons and replaced them with trash. It was an inside job, and we need to know where those weapons went so we can recover them and finish the sale.”

“I'm telling you, I had no involvement with this!” Aaron yelled, his eyes bulging. “I'm being set up!”

“Explain this, then...” Dacthy said, reaching into his coat and pulling out his datapad. He pulled up an video and held the pad a few inches from Aaron's bleeding nose. Trevor could see the image from the angle he was at; it was a clip from a security holotape that showed Aaron cutting the freighter's engines and powering down the blast shields, as well as unlocking the doors to the cargo area. “You honestly didn't expect us to just rely on the original camera system, did you? We had others installed.”

“I, uh. I don't know anything abo- AHHhh!” Aaron started, but Trevor had ripped another nail out before he could finish. Trevor tossed the next nail on the floor and turned to set the pliers on the table. As he did so, he caught sight of a young woman standing in the open doorway at the back of the room, her jaw slightly open.

“How can we help you, Miss Nona.” Trevor inquired smoothly, as if nothing abhorrent was going on behind him.

“There, uh, there's a call for you. It's, uh..It's from your ship, they said it was urgent? Uh..” Miss Nona stammered, brushing her hair away from her face and looking at her shoes.

“If you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I have a call to take. Feel free to continue without me.” Trevor turned, addressing the other men in the room. He then turned his attention back to the hostess in the doorway, who was still staring uncomfortably at her shoes. Trevor gestured towards the door, “Lead the way, Miss, nothing to see in here.”

As Trevor shut the door behind himself, he heard another scream burst out, thankfully muffled by the door. “You didn't see anything back there, did you?”

“No, sir. Just a friendly game of cards going on amongst the club owners.”

“Good girl. Now, that call...”


“You're sure? It came from Lotaith?” Trevor asked, now locked in the office of the night club. The music was louder now, and he had the comm receiver held firmly to his ear. “Well, if it's signed off by the admiral it could be legit. But I also know we've burned a lot of bridges with anyone who might have been left in that group...No, no, I think we should check it out. We just need to be cautious. Send the shuttle down, I'll meet it at the spaceport in around twenty minutes. Get the course set, I want to leave as soon as I get aboard.”

He clicked the comm off and leaned back in the padded chair behind his cleanly kept desk. Ever since the Battle of Lotaith, Trevor had been working to build a small criminal empire on Nar Shadda. It meant paying off some of the larger crime families, bribing the right officials, and keeping his head down, but so far had been working out with few problems. The night club he owned was simply a cover front for spice and weapons smuggling, prostitution, assassinations, and money laundering.

He ran his scarred hands through his long, blond hair and stared blankly at the ceiling; thinking of Lotaith reminded him of what caused him to go down the path he was currently on. After word of the failed assault on Corellia the High Council had split and fled; the group from the Corellia assault returned shortly after. Following some initial confusion they left again in order to search out the council. During this time a force from Corellia ambushed the system in a revenge attack. The Vast Empire troops had fought back as well as they could, but it was with significantly reduced forces. 

Trevor had gotten separated from Tokijin during the attack at Lotaith; while Trevor lead a scrounged together squadron of fighters into battle Tokijin stayed aboard the star destroyer they had been stationed on. From his fighter cockpit, Trevor watched the star destroyer break apart not fifteen minutes into the battle; it had been a primary target. The retreat call was made and as soon as the group had made it to safety, Trevor took the first shuttle he could as far away as possible, without leave.

This was the first contact he had had from anyone within the VE in two years. Although he wasn't sure whether or not he even wanted to go back, something within him knew he had to at least hear whatever they had to say. With that final thought, he got up from the desk and left his office, leaving the door open behind him. He walked briskly back down the stairs and opened the door to the room below.

“Sorry gents, I've got to take off for a few days, tops. Any luck with this guy?”

“Yeah, we got him to talk. It's in a warehouse a few districts over, we've got some guys on the way there right now.” Dacthy replied, setting a screwdriver down on the table and wiping his hands off on a towel. Aaron wimpered behind him. “We'll make sure to wire you the credits when they come in. Thanks for letting us use your place.”

“No problem, take care.” Trevor replied, nodding and closing the door behind him. He hopped back up the stairs and nodded to Miss Nona, “I'll be gone for a few days. You'll be in charge until I'm back. The place basically runs itself, you'll be fine.”

“Yes sir, Mr. Evenson. I've already had your airspeeder brought around, the driver is waiting out front.” Nona replied, bowing slightly. Trevor nodded again and left the club.

--- Hours Later ---
“We'll be out of hyperspace in just a minute, Cap.” Trevor's co-pilot and protocol droid, C-4CP, informed him. “Should I ready the weapons?”

“No, no. Be prepared to jump out though, this could be sketchy.” Trevor replied, readying himself in the pilots chair of the YT-1760 - Punishment. As the ship slipped out of hyperspace, a bizarre scene unfolded before them. Ships ranging from personal transports smaller than his light transport, to full blown Mark II Imperial Star Destroyers. It could have been mistaken for an Imperial raid on a smuggler's hideout, save for the lack of laser fire anywhere. Seconds later, the comm buzzed and C-4CP accepted the call at Trevor's nod.

“Unidentified YT Transport, identify yourself.” Came a gruff voice through the speaker.

“This is Trevor Evenson of the Punishment, former Lieutenant Commander in the Vast Empire Navy. I received a message from Admiral Stormz to come here.” Trevor replied confidently. This was no trap.

“Oh, Commander Evenson. You're a little bit late to the party. Docking codes are being transmitted now, please make your approach.”

Trevor grinned in spite of himself. This is it. We're back.
FM/LCM/Trevor Evenson/A-4/S:26 Tuk'ata/mSSD Atrus/DEF/VEN/VE/(=*A*=)(=*SA*=)[VC:B][LSM][BRC][SWC][GWC][EoT:EC][LoT]
[This message has been edited by Trevor Evenson (edited December 15, 2015 11:48:23 PM)]
Slasher
ComNet Member
 
Slasher
 
[VE-NAVY] Captain
 
Post Number:  932
Total Posts:  1020
Joined:  Oct 2008
Status:  Offline
  RE: Revival
December 15, 2015 11:24:57 PM    View the profile of Slasher 
Rorran 'Slasher' Gorma slowly stalked the decks of the Longhorn Class Escort Frigate Valiant, his uniform slightly tighter than he remembered, more evidence of the multiple years that it had been since he had been in a rigorous military environment with regular exercise against someone of his caliber in hand to hand combat. He could really feel the extra tightness around the waist and made mental note to make sure to make a point of changing that in the near future.

Although she hadn't officially been on the lists of the Vast Empire Navy, Rorran had in the two years prior to this point made sure that a significant amount of money had gone into refitting the ship so that she could eventually be placed into use as a training vessel. She still retained much of her combat capability however, in the end he had only sacrificed two concussion missile launchers and four laser cannons. But the additional four fighters she could now carry, as well as the two training bridges that could be pressed into service as auxiliary bridges in times of need actually made Valiant a more capable warship in the long term, rather than less.

Rorran had just turned to make his way to his quarters when he is stopped by a young non-commisioned officer, newly minted from the look of his uniform and the decidedly uncomfortable expression on his face. “Captain, we have retrieved a message drone which is labelled for your eyes only, marked urgent.”

“Thank you Petty Officer, I'll open it in the Captains Office, have it brought up please.”

“Aye, Aye, Captain.”

His plan to visit his quarters derailed, Rorran decided instead to go immediately to his office off of the main bridge. He had received the same message that everyone else surely had, so what could be contained within this drone.

Fifteen minutes later

With the last of a security systems disabled, Rorran finally had access to the contents of the message drone. The door had slowly slid away, and revealed a holodisc, a package of flimsiplast, and a box. The box and flimsiplast lay forgotten as the holodisc played in the projection unit.

Upon putting the disc into the player the familiar image of the wookie Vice Admiral StOrMz had blinked into existence.

“[[Lieutenant Commander, You are hereby ordered to report to the following coordinates with any ships that you have currently under your command, and to resume your previous post as Chief of Naval Training as soon as possible. As soon as you return I expect you to make your report in person. Oh and one more thing, congratulations, Captain.]]”

Rorran turned back to the small box that had come with the holodisc, inside he found the two code cylinders that denote the visual difference between the rank of Lieutenant Commander and the rank of Captain. He had slipped them into the pockets on his uniform and immediately turned toward the bridge, The sheaf of flimsiplast tucked under his arm, he had entered the bridge.

“Captain on Deck!” the senior enlisted crewman on the bridge yelled, the entire bridge crew snapped to attention immediately.

“As you were,” Rorran ordered, “Communications officer, issue a recall message to all the ships of the fleet to meet at the following coordinates in fifteen hours time.

Sixteen Hours Later

Back in position on the bridge of the Valiant after a brief stint in his bunk, Rorran had felt a small bit of pride as he observed the various ships arrayed in formation with his flagship, two Imperial Customs Frigates, a modified CR-20 Troop Carrier, and two Ye-4 Gunboats, accompanied by a few smaller ships that have been picked up over time, the only ship absent at this point was the Bravery a Bothan Assault Frigate, which also happened to have been the ship stationed the farthest away. However her captain had just signaled that she, and her fighter complement of 12 TIE Avengers, had almost reached the system, which had led Rorran to return to the bridge. They would be a very welcome addition to the firepower of the small force he had assembled, especially if someone decided to attack the gathering of ships before they had a clear command structure in place at their destination.

“Captain, all of our ships have signaled they are present and ready to make the final jump.”

“Very well,” Rorran turned toward the forward viewport, and gazed out at the small fleet before him as the Bravery moved into the point position. “Communications, signal the task force we are moving out, Helm set your course.”

“Ready sir,”

“Take us out.”

It took but five minutes to reach their destination, as the task force had been located just outside the system, and quickly they reverted back to realspace. The ships came out in tight formation, and the fighters immediately launched from their mother ships. Rorran turned quickly toward the bridge exit and ordered they prep his fighter.

“Lieutenant, you have the bridge. Inform the hangar that I will depart as soon as I arrive at the hangar deck to meet with Admiral StOrMz.”

Slasher had pulled down on his uniform coat with a smile, Gods it was good to be back
CNT/CPT Rorran "Slasher" Gorma/VEN/VE
[IC1][SoV][CBV.][MC:1][SoL][GWC][NS-3][LSM][=*IM*=][=*SWC*=](=*A*=)(=*SA*=)(=^ME^=)
[This message has been edited by Slasher (edited December 16, 2015 10:13:39 PM)]
Heliwer117
ComNet Member
 
Heliwer117
 
[VE-ARMY] Senior Sergeant
 
Post Number:  447
Total Posts:  463
Joined:  Feb 2011
Status:  Offline
  RE: Revival
December 15, 2015 11:41:35 PM    View the profile of Heliwer117 
Down some street in some cantina on Ord Mantell, Heliwer Garrath knocked back another whiskey and slammed the glass down on the counter, earning a glare from the bartender. He rolled his eyes at the Rodian and reached into his pocket for a few credit chits to toss on the counter. “To go.” He clarified. After a few moments of staring him down, the Rodain finally relented and placed the bottle of whiskey next to the old soldier’s left hand. The obviously cybernetic hand grabbed it, making sure that the hold wasn’t too hard that it would break the glass bottle, and with a simple nod, the ex-senior sergeant of the Vast Empire headed out. Things had been going surprisingly smoothly in the couple of years since the Vast Empire got kicked to the curb. He had made a few friends in the mercenary circles prior to signing up, and when he was out of a job, he cashed in on those favors. They liked having the large and semi-muscular soldier, as it gave the enemies something to shoot at, not that he never shot back; on the contrary, he did what he did best, using grenade launchers and heavy blasters to cut down anyone in his way, and det packs to bust open paths. It was rather nice, for the first few months that is.

Heliwer let out a sigh and took a swig from the bottle, making his way towards the nearby spaceport. Even though it was against his grain having history as a mercenary and a pirate, he prefered the orderly style of the Vast Empire, though he attributed it mostly to his former squadmates. Even when the bantha poodoo hit the fan, he could rely on almost everyone in Raiders to have his back, whereas those he was working with now would only do it because he owned the ship. He’d give up his mercenary employment for another chance like that any day, especially to regroup with some of his former squad members.

Upon arriving at the spaceport, he headed directly to his bay to find the usual scene of the mercenaries he travelled with lounging around outside the Sileve Eagle, his Citadel-class civilian cruiser, with the exception of one female Weequay in particular.

“‘ey Heliwer,” Vama Trotun called out to him from the gangplank, folding her arms over her chest with an annoyed scowl on her face. “You got yourself a message waiting for you.”

“Can’t it wait, Vama?” The somewhat disheveled ex-trooper scratched his ruffled head and took another sip from his bottle. “I need to try and sort out how to unscrew us from that mess Ooris Rak got us in.”

The tanned male in question let out a grunt and looked over at Heliwer before resuming his game of sabacc with some of the other mercs.

“No, this can’t. It’s Imperial.”

“Imperial? The Remnant ain’t an issue far as I remember.”

“Even so, if it is an Imperial message, it could be good for us. They need all the mercs they can get.”

The ex-sergeant sighed and tossed Vama the bottle of whiskey, the Weequay easily catching it. “Fine. I’ll take a look.”

“And if it is a job, tell us right away this time.”

“Yeah yeah…”

The message, residing inside a holotape, was resting at the helm of the ship, waiting for him to play it. Sitting down in the pilot’s seat, he put the tape in the nearby terminal and activated it, leaning back as the message played for him.

“Officers and Soldiers of the Vast Empire,

Greetings,

What was lost two years ago need not remain lost…”


Five minutes later, after reading and rereading and rerereading the holotape’s message over and over again, Heliwer looked down at his left arm, closing his hand into a fist. Here it was. A call to arms for the surviving members of the Vast Empire. Something that he said that he would do anything to go back to, and yet had some doubts, chiefly if anyone he knew was still alive. These two years definitely highlighted that he didn’t like strangers, nearly refusing to work with Vama and the other mercenaries at all and try it solo, and his stubbornness was rather difficult to tame at times. Still, even a small chance at being able to meet up with his old friends was better than none. His mechanical hand slowly opened up as a grin started to form on his face, memories of before flooding back to him.

“Vama,” He said over the comlink. “Get everyone on board. I have something important to tell you all.”

-

“I hope you know what you’re doing.” His second-in command grumbled as the cruiser dropped out of hyperspace around the planet Lotaith. “This place is swarming with Imperial ships and I’m not too comfortable with all the firepower here.”

“I thought you said that they need all the mercs they can get?” Heliwer rolled his eyes at Vama. “If that’s true, they have no reason to fire on us.”

“That was before we got into the maw of an Imperial base.”

“This isn’t just some base. It’s the Vast Empire’s homeworld.”

“Oh sorry. The maw of an Imperial homeworld.”

“Just keep in mind that you get to keep this old bird and get to be the one in charge once you drop me off.”

“Drop you off? Where the hell am I supposed to drop you off at?”

“Look for the biggest ship there is.” He shrugged, getting out of the cockpit and starting down towards his quarters. “Or if in doubt ask.”

“And what if they ask who is asking?”

The ex-trooper chuckled. “Tell ‘em I’m asking of course. They messaged me, therefore they know I’m coming.”

Vama huffed and took over the pilot’s job, starting to maneuver the Sileve Eagle around the somewhat busy space. Meanwhile, Heliwer traversed the hallway until he made it to his quarters. The place smelled like alcohol and smoke, just like his old apartment when he was with the Vast Empire, and just like that apartment was in an organized mess. Still, it was not bad. Small bed, refresher, place to store his clothing and his weapons. Only thing that had issues was the refresher, as in it had been on the fritz for the past two days, so no way to spruce up before heading over. Instead the large man reached into a compartment to grab his old holotags and wear them around his neck. As much as he would have gone into his Imperial uniform which he still had, it was lying around somewhere and probably didn’t fit him, as the last time he wore it was two, three odd years ago. A plain brown shirt left opened followed by a white top underneath and a pair of combat trousers would have to do for now, at least until he got fitted again. All that was left was his baby girl, a DH-X heavy blaster rifle that he held near and dear to his heart. He didn’t want to admit it, but he might need to give her up in place of the standard E-11, but he hoped that there would be times when he could break her out and do what he does best.

With his DH-X firmly in his hands, and a lit cigarette in his mouth, he was ready to go. Now all that was needed was for Vama to drop him off, and hope that there was someone he knew on the other end.
TRP/SSG Heliwer/2SQD/1PLT/1COM/1BAT/1RGT/VEA/VE
[ES1][EW1][PT][ECA] [A5] [QW12]

"Any problem on Earth can be solved with the careful application of high explosives. The trick is not to be around when they go off." - Valkyrie


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Tokijin
ComNet Cadet
 
Tokijin
 
[VE-NAVY] Master Chief Petty Officer
 
Post Number:  256
Total Posts:  258
Joined:  Sep 2005
Status:  Offline
  RE: Revival
December 16, 2015 1:09:38 AM    View the profile of Tokijin 
The sun had just begun to rise as Sadreen hauled the last crate onto the freighter. Her shift at the warehouse was getting ready to end, but she wasn’t ready to go home just yet. The message was waiting for her. She hadn’t opened it yet and she didn’t want to know its contents. Sadreen had taken a double shift just to procrastinate from reading it.

She stared up at the morning sun, not yet full across the horizon and reached a hand up to run through her sweaty hair. She stopped midway, remembering there was no hair to do that with anymore. Her hand fell to her side, and instead she tried to convince her legs to move so she could find her boss. Sadreen was fatigued, and the headache just behind her eyes wasn’t helping. It had been days since she last slept and her body was running on autopilot to combat the exhaustion.

So she tried not moving. “Hey! Klarthe! The shit’s loaded up! I’m going home!” She called out into the warehouse behind her, and hoped her boss was within ear shot so she wouldn’t have to waste precious energy to find him. 

“Okay, Sadie!” His voice echoed back from deep within the warehouse and she started to walk home. Her legs and back ached from the manual labor done over the last two days. The docks didn’t have any fancy equipment and relied mostly on human labor to fill orders. Luckily for her, her walk back to her childhood home was a short one from the warehouse. Did she have any booze left? Her mother had always had it in the house when she was younger, but her mom wasn’t exactly around anymore.

Her mother had died while she had been away.

In a panicked state, Sadreen returned to her home planet of Fahren Rina after everything had gone to hell with the Navy. Her career had been short lived, and Sadreen had barely escaped the battle of Lotaith with her life. She had lost everything in that battle. Alcohol made the pain of those losses dull and it kept her from dreaming, and her mind sluggish and blank. The last thing she wanted to do was remember.

But she had not been able to drink lately, and the message was waiting. Waiting on her comm at home, waiting for Master Chief Petty Officer “Tokijin” to read it. She laughed out loud at that memory of that name. It left a bitter taste in her mouth to remember. She tried to escape her past with it. No, rather she had tried to escape her mother with that name. It didn’t really matter in the end, because mother was dead and so was he. The name had died with them.

Sadreen grimaced and went inside the house. There was a half empty bottle waiting for her in the entry way and she began to nurse it. She looked into the office at the blinking computer, and immediately turned towards the kitchen. Did she have any food? Searching fridge was fruitless, save for some weird type of pickles she had bought while drunk a while ago.

“Stupid pickles.” She finished the rest of the bottle’s contents, and tossed it into the sink, before fishing a funny pickle out of the jar. The pickle made a satisfying crunching sound as it she slowly ate it, and she pondered the origins of the strange pickles. They were a lot better than she thought they would be, but in the back of her mind she knew that was only because of how much she had just drank. 

The weariness began to fade into the back of her mind as the alcohol started to take over. The snacks she had over the course of her shifts weren’t helping to slow its effects. She loved every second of it. Her headache was gone, the pain in her legs was dull and she started to giggle. It was so great, how much better it made her feel. Buying the strong stuff had been worth it.

She made her way into the office, where another bottle was sitting next to the computer. She picked it up and downed it too, for good measure. There was only about a fourth left in that one, but it went down all the same. With a satisfied smile, she finally opened the message. Why had it taken her so long to read it? That was stupid of her. Scared of ones and zeros. She was a such a baby sometimes.

It took a couple tries for the contents of the message to register. Return to the Vast Empire? To the Navy? She let out a bark of laughter.

“Whhhaaaat are they smoking? Asking me back? Hah! Sure, why not?” Sadreen was feeling pretty good at this point, riding high on her intoxication. Who was she to refuse such a kind invitation? She called her boss at the warehouse.

“Hey, Kllaartheee. I..need a ride off planet.”

“What? Sadie, you got off work an hour ago. Already?”

“Hey! YOu’re my boss, not..my frakin’ mother, okay? I need a ride.” She heard him sigh, but decided to ignore his rudeness.

“Hold on, lemme check my books, see what’s leaving. Seriously, Sadie? Where are you going?” She caught the sound of turning pages. The old man still kept physical copies of everything. He was so odd.

“Odd bastard..Oh! Yeah, I’ve got the coordinates here. How much would it cost me? Can you just take it out of my paycheck?” She started up a transfer with the coordinates attached.

“…Sadie, I really don’t think this a good idea. Why don’t you wait until tomorrow, and we’ll-”

“Hey! Frak off! I didn’t ask for your fucking opinion, old man!  I need a frakin’ ride, are you going to help me or not?!” She was breathing fast now, the anger and alcohol making her words even more slurred. Did she usually drink this much?

“…Okay, Sadie…There’s one leaving tomorrow morning you can take to the deep and catch a ride there, okay? 0700 hours?” He was speaking in soothing tones trying to calm her rage, but that only aggravated her further.

She smashed her fist down on the desk, ending the call. “Frakkk thatshit!!!” The empty bottle that had been sitting on the desk was on the floor, now in multiple pieces. “I need a fraking drink.”

***

Sadreen hadn’t said goodbye to Klarthe, and she was fighting down the regret of getting on the ship. She was sitting in the back of a freighter, waiting for for it to land on a transfer planet so she could figure out how to complete the other half of the trip. It was too late to go back now.

Her back was aching again, making it impossible to sit comfortably and the headache was back, just behind her eyes. What had she just gotten herself into?

***

Sadreen stepped out of the shuttle and onto the floor of the star destroyer hanger. It was already too much for her. The familiar clanking and clanging in the hanger was making her head ache and sobriety wasn't having any appeal. She caught the attention of a passing protocol droid.

"Hey, where could I get a stiff drink?"

"Three levels up. There are signs, you can't miss it."
MCPO Tokijin/mSSD Atrus/Defensive Fleet/VEN/VE (=*A*=) (=*SA*=) [BWC] [VC:B] [CBV] [MC1]
[This message has been edited by Tokijin (edited December 16, 2015 7:21:11 PM)]
[This message has been edited by Tokijin (edited December 16, 2015 9:57:40 PM)]
Aeos
ComNet Sage
 
Aeos
 
[VE-ARMY] Captain
[VE-DJO] Dark Jedi Warrior
[VE-ICS] Pirate Overseer
[VE-VEEC] Engineer
 
Post Number:  3049
Total Posts:  3141
Joined:  May 2005
Status:  Offline
  RE: Revival
December 16, 2015 1:10:04 AM    View the profile of Aeos 
Dawn broke in scattered beams through the rumbling clouds that with it also brough the promise of rain. Za studied the horizon from the doorway of the farmhouse, trying to gauge what time the sky would break. The Ansionese farming lands were in the midst of a severe draught, and they've all been anticipating the rains with beating hearts. She took a sip from her steaming coffee and sighed.

"We could really use some more rain before the harvest."
Strong arms snaked arond her midrif as a stubbled chin nuzzled the nape of her neck.

"Good morning Rin," she said grinnning, as he hugged her.
"Hmh. Need coffee before the morning is good." Her husband muttered.

A wail flared from inside the house, and Zasati groaned.
"And so the day starts." She grumbled putting her coffee down and heading to the baby room.

It has been four years since she managed to discreetly leave a dying Imperial faction, Empire. Whatever delusion it was that they called themselves. She had given them ten years of her young adult life. She had risen and fallen through their ranks, through their divisions, becoming quite nomadic in her military career. Rin knew only bits and pieces. What she was willing to share. They had met shortly after she had defected. He was impishly charming and eventually convinced her why it was such a smart idea to become a farmer's wife. The years have been kind to her since then. She became soft, curvy and almost plump instead of the muscled soldier she had been cultivated to be. Her cheeks were rosy again, and her eyes filled with energy.

She picked up the young toddler from the crib and coo-ed at her as they walked back to the kitchen.

"Your daughter does not like the morning either it would seem."  Rin said grinning with a piece of toast in his mouth while Za fought the young todler into the chair.

"Rin, she doesn't like anything right now." Za said as she pushed some hair out of her face.  Their daughter gurgled happily as she played with her own drool. Za groaned again while Rin laugh.

From outside the family high pitch hum of speeder sounded and both Rin and Za frowned. It was definitely still too early for the post or any visitor for that matter.

"I'll go check out what it is. " Rin offered and left for the yard.
Za sighed as their daughter Suna strectehd her chubby arms towards her.
"Yes ratlet, I'm getting you food. "
Suna Ayme Kath giggled again, happily babling away in her own world as Za moved about the kitchen grabbing eggs, bread and milk to prepare breakfast.

"Zasati..."
Something in Rin's voice was off, and Za clenched her fists as he returned to the kitchen with another young man in his wake.
"Captain?"
Her heart dropped, her eyes widened and the tension could be cut with a knife all of a sudden. Rin's eyes narrowed as he looked between the stranger and his wife. He knew she came from a checkered past, if her her tatoo, the scars that marred her lithe body, or the restless night he spent consoling her nightmares was anything to go by.

Aeos' gut wrenched at the familiar rank, and her shoulders sagged.
"Captain Aeos, I have to say, you are difficult to track down." the young man started.

"Captain Aeos?" Rin asked. Aeos shook her head, indicating for him to wait with his questions.
"What do you want?" She asked towards the stranger.

"I'm a delivering a message from HQ." he replied as he withdrew the message disk from his breast pocket and handed it to her.
"I didn't think that HQ is still intact." Aeos muttered numbly receiving the disk.
"It's not, but view the message and you'll understand." the man said.

The Next Day
"Za, I'm still not happy about all of this. You should have told me." Rin murmured darkly.
"I'm sorry, I didn't think they would resurface. I thought it was done. That's why I wasn't worried." Aeos replied. It was still early, not even morning yet. Her bags were ready at the front door. She didn't even own a uniform anymore, and wondered what role she could possibly play in the discussion lying ahead. Maybe she could wing herself to be established as a representative stationed on Ansion. She had no interest to go back-

"You never corrected me when I assumed you got caught up in a gang like I got. Not the frakin Empire." Rin interrupted her thoughts.

"Gangs, Empire, Republic. It's all the same. It's about power, bureacracy and establishing territory. It's just a different slogan." Aeos said cynically.

"And you are absolutely sure you have to go back?" Rin pushed again.
"Yes, Rin, honey, I wouldn't if I had a choice. But I...I got involved in something there, with some very dangerous people. If I refuse to come back, and they find out about Suna, about you. I could not live with myself. I am expected to pitch. Not doing so, would be consider nothing short of treason."

"Will your sister be there?"

"Ayme? If she's not dead, then yeah. Probably." Aeos answered as her thoughts flashed to Havock. Her older sibling. Hopefully that bridge wasn't burned too badly.

"Rin, I'm terrified."

Her hand instinctively sought Rin's, and together they watched as dawn broke along the sky, brining the first rain in months to the farm.

http://www.vastempire.com/wiki/index.php?title=Aeos
[LoR][ESC1][ES2C][CoR][CoS][SC][EW:1][RCoD][GRoM][GRP][CCA][GC][KAD][MRT]

Qualified Combat Engineer
SM|DJR Aeos|Krath|Shades|Raven 5|VEDJ

CPO_Aeos/(=*A*=)][MC1](=*SA*=)
[This message has been edited by Aeos (edited December 16, 2015 1:11:13 AM)]
[This message has been edited by Aeos (edited December 16, 2015 11:12:30 AM)]
Drac
ComNet Disciple
 
Drac
 
[VE-DJO] Initiate
[VE-NAVY] Line Captain
[VE-VEMC] 2nd Lieutenant
 
Post Number:  2067
Total Posts:  2189
Joined:  Jan 2009
Status:  Offline
  RE: Revival
December 16, 2015 1:24:56 AM    View the profile of Drac 
The three ships moved forward slowly, flying on repulsorlifts alone as they positioned themselves within the hangar of the massive Imperial Star Destroyer. The middle ship, a Lambda class shuttle, finished its rotation and then settled to the deck first. The two TIE Interceptors flanking it touched down a moment later, just before the Lambda’s ramp began to lower. Their reception committee stepped forward: an honor guard of Stormtroopers in their shiny white armor and several officers in black, the shaggy head of the centermost officer towering over the other two. They were met at the bottom of the ramp by several officers from within the shuttle, who offered salutes but did not step forward.

Admiral Stormz didn’t miss a beat, immediately turning slightly to his left and returning the salute from the pilot of the lead TIE as the man approached. His growling basso hadn’t changed a bit, “[Captain. You have not changed a bit, I see.]”

The pilot reached up and removed the unusually large helmet, revealing his dark Mon Calamari features. He offered a small grin, “Never, Admiral.”

The group turned as one and began walking deeper into the ship as they entered the first corridor, Stormz rumbled, “[I thought you were dead, old friend. Otherwise I’d have contacted you and told you to get your ass back here personally.]”

Drac chuckled and shrugged, “Its fine. I thought the same of you, frankly.” His mind flashed back to the terrible image of fire gouting from the remains of Stormz’s bridge in the battle over Corellia.  It was a brief image, both fortunately and unfortunately. It hadn’t been something he’d wanted to dwell over during battle anyway, but at the time he’d been desperately working with damage control crews to save his own ship. Raking fire had penetrated the Halcyon Warrior’s ventral shields and laid open a devastating wound in her bottom armor that had stretched nearly half of the ship’s length. The ship’s engines had come within ten meters of being breached, which would have been instant death for all aboard. As it was, large portions of the ship were left either breached or aflame. Casualties had been…heavy.

They’d managed to stabilize things, though, limping away from the battle with their escorts as it wound down. They’d been among the last of the Vast Imperial ships to depart and had gotten only so far before being forced to stop due to mounting failures in the Warrior’s systems. That’s how they’d found themselves in the Karkomin system, effecting what repairs they could at Karkomin’s small shipyard. While there they’d heard about the defeat and dissolution of the Vast Empire.

With no good alternatives, and having apparently escaped the notice of any pursuers, there was little choice but to stay and continue repairs. Even so, it took just over a year before the Halcyon Warrior moved under her own power again, and even now she bore massive, obvious repair work and significant burn scarring on her hull.

Stormz interrupted Drac’s pensive silence, his voice wary, “[What are your thoughts on all of this?]”

The Mon Cal nodded thoughtfully, then spoke, “You called the fleet back together. Presumably at Supreme Moff Kadann’s request?” The towering wookiee nodded tightly. “Then myself and those under my command hereby report for duty, Admiral.”

Stormz growled and stopped, turning to face Drac directly, “[What?! It is not that simple, and you and I both know it.]”

Drac tilted his head back and forth noncommittally, “Is it not?” He returned the wookiee’s glare for a moment, then continued, “I could tell you about how I never wanted to be a warlord of any sort, not even on the small scale that circumstances forced on me. That would be true. I could tell you that I could not support my fleet adequately and that every day brought greater risk of catastrophic accidents or disastrous invasion. Or that I’ve been staring the prospect of being forced to scuttle the Warrior in the face, for lack of resources to operate her. Those would be true, too. Blast, there was even a pretty decent chance that the Rebels would have welcomed me into their fold readily enough, had I so chosen. I was never the greatest thorn in their sides, and bringing an entire Mark II Imperial Star Destroyer with you when you defect is a great way to earn a clean slate with them. We both know that.”

Drac turned, and continued down the corridor, “But the truth is that none of those reasons compelled me one way or the other, Admiral. They edified my decision, the fate of the Warrior being especially important, but they were never going to be the deciding factor. And that is this: I pledged my loyalty to this successor Empire, to this idea of what the Empire should be and how it should regard and protect its citizens. I swore I would serve this authority. Yes, it was gone. Now it has returned. And, seeing as it was no trap by outsiders, I still recognize that authority… and yours as my commanding officer. I cannot accept less from myself. So I and the ships of my command are at your service.”

Stormz was silent for a moment, then barked out a gruff laugh and nodded, “[Fair enough. Though I’m surprised that a man in your position isn’t holding out for any concessions at all.]”

“Just please tell me you’ll get me some real Imperial mechanics with real kriffing Imperial parts to get my ship back into fighting condition. My blasted Star Destroyer is still a quarter grey after two years and I’m kriffing tired of it.”

The Vice Admiral chuffed in amusement, and put a furry hand on Drac’s shoulder as they reached the turbolift, “[You really don't change a bit.]”
TFC/CAPT Drac/ISD II Halcyon Warrior/TF: Besh/1Flt/FC/VEN/VE
Captain of the ISD II Halcyon Warrior
[SoA][MC1][MC2x2][NSR1][NT1][SoV][CBV][SoL][SWC][NSR][GCR][GWC][*AO*](=*A*=)(=*SA*=)
"Think Ackbar, but Imperial."

TRN/INI Drac/VEDJ
Dusk
ComNet Member
 
Dusk
 
[VE-ARMY] Sergeant
 
Post Number:  438
Total Posts:  458
Joined:  Mar 2011
Status:  Offline
  RE: Revival
December 16, 2015 2:07:44 AM    View the profile of Dusk 
Jacen punched a few buttons on the command console of his walker. A holo-display appeared before him, it showed a New Republic caravan moving along a nearby road. What the display also noted was the bright red dots that were his own droid forces, ready to pounce on the caravan as it passed. The commander slipped his storm commando helmet on and detached the, now painted blood red, squad leader pauldren before setting it down. With a flick of his wrists, his twin EE-3 blasters folded out of his back and into the commanders waiting hands.

----30 minutes later----

Dusk finally sat back against a, now burned out, cargo transport. He doffed his helmet and looked at the beautiful destruction his forces had caused. Jacen's faithful companion, PD-Q5, approached the man with only a few carbon scores marring the droid's carapace. "Sir, Red Squadron is reporting no movement from the city by the New Republic. The caravan did not get out a distress signal."

"Wonderful news PD." The man clapped the droid on the shoulder. "If things continue the way they are, I project we'll have the NR starved out of the city within the month."

"Very good sir."

A B-1 battle droid approaches the two's conversation on a STAP. As it dismounts, it holds out a holopad. "Sir, we've intercepted communications on the old Vast Empire command channels. There's an encrypted message being broadcast."

Jacen snatches the holopad from the droid and starts typing away with his old access codes. After breaking through the encryption, a smile slowly spreads across the former squad leaders face. At the conclusion of the message, Jacen looks to the Battle Droid. "Start to gather the troops. Get them and the walker aboard the freighter, we're going to Lotaith."

"Roger, Roger."

----3 hours later----

"Sir, all ships are in the air now, plotting course to outside the planet's gravity well." One of the droids piloting Jacen's ARWED-Class Freighter.

"Good, let's see of the hyper drives I've outfitted the fighters with stand up to their claims."

The freighter, escorted by 6 Vulture Droid starfighters, 2 Tri-FIghters, and a Heavy Missile Platform, all began making calculations for the jump to hyperspace. A few moments later, the star field began to stretch out before the sudden lurch of the hyperdrives kicking in. A smile still graced the former squad leaders lips as he reminisced of the old days of organized fighting. Nothing like the past 2 years, it'd been a complete slug fest from day one of Jacen's private campaign against the NR. After the VE had splintered, Dusk had been separated from the rest of the fighting forces. After things had settled down, he'd hurried back to Tadath and gathered everything he owned before fleeing to the outer rim. He landed on Zhar and immediately became at odds with the local NR forces. Dusk discovered an old Clone Wars era warehouse with a number of battle droids in it, which he used to wage a guerilla war against the Republic that was infecting the planet.

----14 hours later----

"Sir, we'll be dropping out of Hyperspace in two minutes. Should I begin harmonizing the battle web?" PD asked Jacen as he entered the man's quarters.

"No need, we're meeting friends. I'll be on the bridge in a minute to broadcast our arrival." With that, Jacen stood and began donning his old SCOPE armor. He assembled the pieces around his body with practiced ease. His EE-3 rig fit snuggly with the armor as did his Bullstopper in it's old leather holster. The former SL looked to his bed stand at the painted pauldren for a moment before grabbing and attaching it as well. The ship shuddered as they entered real space. Dusk hurried to the bridge.

He looked through the cockpit window showed the forces that had gathered for the call and it brought back the sense of purpose he'd lost two years ago. The comms crackled to life as the freighter was hailed "Unidentified vessel, you have entered Imperial Space with hostile signatures. Identify yourselves or we will open fire."

Dusk smirked as he leaned over the console to broadcast back to the ISD-II. "This is Sergeant Jacen "Dusk" Arture, RAIDERS Squad Leader, ID 426637. Those 'Hostile Signatures' you're picking up are old CIS IFF tags. The starfighers are under my command. Requesting permission to board."

"Welcome back Sergeant, permission granted."
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Jacen "Dusk" Arture
"We're not retreating, we're advancing in a different direction."
~Xephos

Smile!!! Tomorrow will be worse.

SL/SGT Jacen "Dusk" Arture/RAIDERS/Wildcard/Phoenix/VEA
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Gurlanin
ComNet Member
Imperial Supporter

 
Gurlanin
 
[VE-NAVY] Senior Chief Petty Officer
 
Post Number:  697
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  RE: Revival
December 16, 2015 6:26:24 PM    View the profile of Gurlanin 
Grent "Gurlanin" Notimo sat with his feet on the desk in front of him, his boots on the floor so as not to scratch or dent the wood. It was, after all, not his; it belonged to the man bound to a plain metal chair at the other end of the room. The occasional whimper made its way past the tape across the human's mouth, and blood trickled down from a cut above his eye.

"Please don't make me ask you again, Victor," said Grent in a resigned voice. He had been 'questioning' the man for several hours on the location of a particular traitor that had caused a great deal of damage to the Vast Empire.

"Mmmmfff," came the muffled reply.

The only other person in the room looked at Grent with a raised eyebrow from behind the bound man's chair. Nadya “Lady” Mcintyre, a member of Aurek Flight and a damn good pilot by anyone's standards, was one of the most efficient extractors of information that Grent had ever come across, and he was definitely very happy that she was on his side. He nodded at her, and she bent down and whipped of the tape on Victor's mouth.

"AAHH!" screamed Victor, "I' told you before that I don't know the guy yous are lookin' for." Grent sighed, and indicated for Lady to put the tape back on. As she bent down to do so, Victor protested, "Wait wait wait! I dunno the guy, but I can tell ya who would."

Lady paused as Grent took his feet off from on top of the antique desk. "I'm listening," he said.

"Anyone what wants to disappear would go through Jimmy DeLano. He's the one who knows the right people. That's all I know, I swear!" Victor had a pleading look in his eyes. He knew that his life was in the balance over this information.

Grent saw the look in the other man's eyes, and knew he was telling the truth. He slowly got up, and made his way around to the front of the desk. Grent looked directly in the man's eyes, and said simply, "I believe you." It was at that point that Lady pulled the trigger on her handgun, putting an end to Victor's life.

------------------------------------------------------------------

The two pilots stepped out of the spacious office and into a large hangar that housed twelve TIE/HU Hunter starfighters, painted black: the signature of the Vast Empire's 58th Squadron. In the immediate vicinity of the office's door, sitting in a loose circle playing some form of cards, was the rest of Strill squadron. It was Fallon “Edge” Mirinis, another member of Aurek Flight, that spotted the duo first.

"Hey, Boss: you get anything out of him?" he asked.

"A name," replied Grent, "but we can't act on it yet."

"What?! Why?" cried Tycho 'Ghastly' Avan, the last member of Aurek Flight.

"We've got orders," said Grent, "from the Admiral."

That got his squadron's attention. They had all assumed, like many others, that Vice Admiral Stormz's had been killed two years prior. Their standing orders at the time had been to continue to hunt down traitors on a list of 30 names that had been supplied by Naval Intelligence, and that's what they had been doing for the past two years. They had mercilessly pursued and killed 25 of the people whose names were on the list so far, and accounted for the fate of 4 others (one had shot himself when he found out that Strill was hunting him, two were killed by pirates, and the other had got himself so drunk that he fell off a rooftop and been hit by no less than 17 vehicles on the way down). That left one name: Markus Nathaniel Fratter the 3rd, heir to a multi-trillion credit conglomerate. When he had betrayed the Vast Empire, the young heir had had enough money to use the best forgers that credits could buy, and simply vanished. The fact that they were finally on the man's trail, and were being recalled, made Grent furious. He knew, however, that orders were orders.

"Mount up, Strill," called out Grent loudly, sub-consciously stepping back into the role of a proper Navy fighter squadron commander, "You all know that I don't like it any more than you do, but we've got a job to do and I'll be damned if Strill fail at something so simple as flying from A to B!" The surrounding pilots chuckled. "Hooah?"

"Hooah!" the squadron responded, jumping up from their seats, grabbing their signature black modified commando helmets, and jogging towards their fighters.

The twelve TIE Hunters flew gracefully out of the hangar, and towards space. Grent plugged in the coordinates of the rendezvous point into his NavComputer, grateful for the hyperdrives installed in Strill's fighters that allowed them such freedom to operate without having to return to a mothership. The data was then sent to the other fighters in the squadron, and the green lights started appearing on Grent's HUD to show that his pilots had entered the coordinates and were ready to fly. Stars turned to lines as the squadron made their jump towards Lotaith.

It had been over two years since Grent had last set foot on a Vast Empire Star Destroyer. He wondered if it would still feel like home after all this time. The Mandalorian thought about the glimpse of himself he had caught as he passed by a mirror, and smiled: he needed a haircut!
SCO | SCPO Gurlanin | Iron One | S:58 "Strill" | W:101 "Blade" | ISD II "Paragon" | TF: Aurek | 2nd Fleet | SC | VEN | VE

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TO|CPO Gurlanin|PLF "Cappadocious"|VENA|VEN|VE
[This message has been edited by Gurlanin (edited December 19, 2015 10:19:37 PM)]
THX1138
ComNet Member
 
THX1138
 
[VE-ARMY] Corporal
 
Post Number:  525
Total Posts:  549
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  RE: Revival
December 16, 2015 7:17:46 PM    View the profile of THX1138 
Staring out a window, the tall, blue skinned figure kept his eyes closed to simple red slits. His office overlooked a large city-scape dotted by greenery every few feet. Breathing in the cold frigid air, Therex let himself relax and closed his eyes completely.

It had been a couple years. After the defeat of the VE, his crippling injuries as a result, and the loss of the woman he loved, Therex returned to the one person left in the Galaxy he could trust. Faska Maroni. Leader of the Velkeryies, a gang that was definitely far from the prestige of someone like The Black Sun, but most certainly not a small group. Faska had his medics treat Therex, both repairing the damage of the battle, but also sinking considerable money into getting his prosthetics refitted and upgraded.

The eye still bothered him. It itched, and felt more like a downgrade as he lost some of the added function, but it did clear up his sight on that side a bit more. Plus, it blended with his natural eye much better. His leg was a whole new story. The complete package. It looked and felt like a real leg, even with a synchronized pulse to simulate life. It still had a small compartment for him to store his old army stuff, including some unused medical equipment and his favorite compact revolvers. Everything slid together to create a seamless skin that could fool even the closest scrutiny by eye.

Straightening his back, Therex moved back to his desk. The slow life was not what he had planned for, and as he passed 26 years, he could still feel the youthful desire to be on the go, all the time. But, he was without guidance, and therefore took up a job with Faska again, working on keeping struggling alliances held together. Right now the Hutts weren't too happy that Maroni wanted to siphon some work force off of Nar Hypa.

Why doesn't he just talk to the slugs himself?

Because this is what we do now... This is where I need to be.

Therex shook his head, trying to cancel out the little scratches and whispers he heard there. He was about to contact his rep on Nar Hypa, when Faska burst into the room, looking red in the face.

"We... We found them...," he gasped out before collapsing into a chair.

"Found who," Therex said, instinctively reaching for the laser pistol he kept holstered to the underside of his desk.

"Your old army buddies are apparently still alive and kicking. Just flying under the radar," Maroni got out between gulps of air.

Army buddies?

Vast Empire...

Grabbing his coat off the back of his chair, Therex stood and donned it in one motion.

"Show me."

OOC:
Yeah... It sucks... A lot... But I haven't written diddly for two years...
"He has his orders, and when a Chiss accepts orders he carries them out, period."

Smile for death

TRP/CPL THX-1138/4SQD/1PLT/1COM/1BAT/1RGT/Tadath/VEA/VE
[ES1][EW1][SoC][*QW 12*][*ESC*12*](ECA)(HeS)(2.1)(2.2)(A11)

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Garryll Gates
ComNet Disciple
 
Garryll Gates
 
[VE-ARMY] Colonel
[VE-DJO] Sith Vitiator
[VE-ICS] Privateer Captain
 
Post Number:  2140
Total Posts:  2159
Joined:  Sep 2007
Status:  Offline
  RE: Revival
December 16, 2015 8:35:11 PM    View the profile of Garryll Gates 
Iorin was a small, sparsely inhabited moon with only a few, minor spaceports near the Coreward edge what, once upon a time, had been the Vast Empire. Maybe it still was a part, but very few ships ever made their way out that far. It was far off the beaten path, and the people who called it home were just fine that way. Sure, there were some kids who dreamed all their lives of leaving Iorin, but far more followed their parents’ footsteps, and settled into their communities and married people they’d known all their lives.

A tall, well-built man with close-cropped black hair and a long jacket hanging from his frame calmly walked in from the eastern edge of one of those small, starport towns. Home to a couple of thousand people, it had a small landing pad, large enough for a large transport freighter or perhaps a couple of small passenger shuttles, if the pilots were careful. The town was big enough to have the only militia outpost on the entire tiny moon, and it was, therefore, the de facto capital.

The man walked amicably through the clean, wide streets that made up the gridwork of the small town. In the early afternoon, there were a number of people walking the streets, many bustling about with their occupations to close up before the day ended, while others were strolling about, and chatting with friends on their way past.

Some people glanced at the man as he walked past - a new face in such a small town was unusual to see, especially one who seemed to stand out so. The man’s legs carried him about the town until he found himself before the militia garrison barracks, just a couple hundred meters from the city center where a small office for the mayor, along with an equally-small police station, sat.

A clean-cut young man with a blue uniform on emerged from the barracks, nearly walking into the stranger.

“Er, howdy!” said the young man, nodding to the other. “Can we help ya with somethin’? Looks like ya ain’t from here - I can direct ya anywhere ya need to be in the town.”

The man glanced momentarily at the young militiaman. “I’d prefer to talk to the man in charge here.”

“The captain?” asked the young man. “Er, well I suppose I could ask if you’d stay here.”

The stranger nodded, and the young man turned on his heel and scurried back inside the barracks. A few minutes passed, with the tall man shifting his weight idly, before the boy appeared again. “Cap’ll see ya now.”

The stranger nodded, and followed the boy into the barracks. They were clean, no-nonsense rooms, with neatly folded sheets on the soldiers’ bunks, and well-polished floors. The captain, a grey-haired man with a severe hair cut and a scowl, sat behind a large desk.

“What can I help you with, stranger?” asked the captain, his accent hinting a homeworld far more coreward than this backwater.

The stranger dragged a chair over, but before sitting on it, reached into his jacket. A couple of faint snaps of leather and metal buckles being released could be heard, and the man drew out a meter-long blaster rifle from his jacket, resting it against the desk. The captain’s eyebrow raised in question, before, from the other side, the stranger drew a thin sword, encased in a scabbard. The sword rested next to the rifle. After that, a thick blaster pistol found its way onto the desk, and finally, an ID card and a metal necklace carrying dog tags.

“I was hoping, Captain,” said the stranger. “That you’d have a line to Tadath. I’d really like a pickup.”

The captain reached over to the ID card and dog tags. “Why would that faded Empire pick you up?”

The captain glanced at the tags and the ID. “Colonel Gates? That’s you?”

“In the flesh,” Gates responded, lacing long fingers behind his head and stretching his legs out. “Imperial Stormtroopers Special Forces. Well, it’s easier than explaining what I’ve done. Attack ships on fire off the surface of Tadath, blah blah. You got a holonet connection or not?”

“But why would they send anyone to pick you up?” the captain persisted.

“Well,” Gates said, leaning forwards, tapping a microcomm in his ear. “A little birdy told me we were getting the gang back together.”

OOC:
I have a sword now. I probably won’t have a sword in the future, but swords are fkin cool so I have a sword for now.

Company Commander of Phoenix Company |Executive Officer of the Army | Sith Viator of the Dark Jedi Order | Lord Commander of Eagle Sect | Captain of the
Bloodfist in the Osk Company
XO/COLGarryll Gates/3SQD/1PLT/1COM/1BAT/1RGT/Tadath/VEA/VE [SCP][RoM][ICE] [IH] [CCA] [BC] [SRP] [AS-4] [ES1] [CoS] [EW1] {RESx3} [ESC09] [RoTx2] [CRoS] [AoT] [CoZ][CoDS][VT][CRoM][SoS][GRoM][KAD][RCA][*QW 12*](3.1)(1.1)

SL/VVT Gates/Eagle Sect/Lopen/VEDJ/VE (KC1) (SoY)
Longtime leader of Blackjack Squad
For Tadath, for the Empire.
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Karash
ComNet Member
 
Karash
 
[VE-ARMY] Gunnery Sergeant
[VE-ICS] Pirate Swabbie
 
Post Number:  407
Total Posts:  424
Joined:  Nov 2008
Status:  Offline
  RE: Revival
December 16, 2015 9:04:39 PM    View the profile of Karash 
“What do you mean a message? What sort of message? From whom? Why would they want to contact me?” Karash knew the man who had delivered the message had left about five minutes ago but he had continued to shout at him nonetheless.

Karash had never been what most people would call ‘happy’ but for most of his time in the VE he had been bearably annoyed. His former Squad mates, almost all of whom were certainly dead, had been the source of the bearable annoyance and the sole reason he had stayed there for the time that he did. Over the past few years he had often thought of his old Squad mates and what had become of them, though he never lingered in the past for too long. For Karash, the past was a dangerous place.

‘Absolutely bloody typical of that lot, just when you think that the Universe has moved on from their insanity, they are back. Of course most of them probably died in the final days of that particular mess, lucky for you you got out when you did.’ For much of the past few years Karash’s interior monologue had been his only meaningful friend; friend was certainly not the right word but it was close enough.

The former Sergeant had left his post while the VE was still in its death throws and spent the last few years jumping from Planet to Planet, finding whatever work he could. The useful thing about being a combat-medic was that there was always another war being fought and some faction wanting you to stop their soldiers from dying prematurely. In Karash’s opinion an Army just wanted you alive for as long as it took to train and brainwash the next generation. Karash had forgotten for what campaign he was currently ‘fighting’; he had not seen actual battle since he had left the Raiders. After the first eighteen months of being a hired hand he had gotten bored of learning the new names of each coup, insurrection, police action, civil war or out of control party that he was summoned to. Karash had never bothered to learn people’s names, if you were in the Raiders for less than six months then he did not acknowledge your existence let alone know your name. Apart from being a hermit this particular career choice seemed to fit him quite well. 

‘What would be the point of you going back? They are all likely to be dead any way…’

“Oh will you shut up!” Karash shouted whilst hitting his head.

Over the past few years Karash had decided that anyone willing to get themselves shot, blown up, electrocuted, stabbed, burned, beaten up or, in the case of one unfortunate young man, eaten alive for some Crime Lord / Warlord / King / Chancellor / Emperor was an idiot. He thought he had been naïve to join the VE in the first place, only a child would join an Army looking for something that resembled a family. Even if those mad fools did become a family, they all just ended up dying or disappearing. It was better to be alone and just wait for death.

‘Of course some of the old group could also be there. Not that you want them to of course. I bet Havock will be there, that one could never manage to get herself killed; even if she did constantly try. In fact, if she is there, or any of them for that matter; you should go just to let them know precisely what you think of them.’

From the moment he had seen the message Karash had known that he would go. If only to find out who was dead. He had spent the last hour or so pacing backwards and forwards, try to think of a reason not to go but there were none. As he once again began to think about his old comrades he had to suppress a smile, just in case one of them ever found out; he would never live down the shame of someone knowing that he actually liked some of his friends.

“How the hell am I going to get there? I don’t even have a ship…” Karash thought out loud, as he began to walk in the general direction of transport.

OOC:
Well, it may not be very good but it is what it is; a poorly written post.
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Helena
ComNet Member
 
Helena
 
[VE-ARMY] Senior Sergeant
 
Post Number:  496
Total Posts:  508
Joined:  Jun 2008
Status:  Offline
  RE: Revival
December 16, 2015 10:15:28 PM    View the profile of Helena 
The sound of bustling customers that once filled the Leucine family coffee shop were no longer heard as the business was grinding to a steady halt. The place had not been filled for some time, what with the members of the corps disappearing. The small shop gathered dust and the coffee became stale as Helena sat down at one of the tables with her head in her hands. It had been the coldest few years in a long time and she seemed to see the numbers of customers decrease along with the climate. Helena moved back home to her parents after serving with the Corps herself for some years. It was then that they had passed down the family business to her, in order to keep her mind active and try and forget some of the sights she had seen as a medic out on the fields. Luckily for her, she had pretty much locked those sorts of memories in a box and buried them.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The howling wind swept through the doorway to the coffee shop, causing the windows and doors to rattle and whistle. The weather had been getting worse with each day. Helena made her way through the apartment located above the shop and rested at a nearby window. She watched as the snow fell gracefully to settle on the ground. She was alone and had been for a a year or so after her parents had passed.

Pursing her lips around the rim of the coffee mug, she sighed, taking a small sip. The stale, almost burned stench was too nostalgic not to enjoy. It took her back to when her parents were alive and her first “outing”. She had milled many a thought over a few cups of coffee with squaddies and it was the one thing holding her back from letting herself go completely into a depressed state.  Out of the corner of her eye she noticed a small light flash in the window before hearing a banging on the shop entrance. The sound and vibration sent the mug flying into the air and crashing onto the window sill.

“God dammit! Who the hell is knocking, we aren’t even open!” Helena muttered, trying to brush the coffee from her shirt whilst rushing down the stairs.

As she approached the door and began to shout “We aren’t open, should have tried a few years ago…” She flung the doors open aggressively to be met with a very stern looking gentleman that looked like he was about to have frost bite. After inviting him in and sitting him down with a stale cup of coffee, she realized what badges his clothes contained.

“Miss Leucine?”

“Please, call me Helena” she replied, studying his uniform and pulling back her blonde hair, attempting to redeem herself after her rude greeting.

“Helena… We have finally tracked you down. You have transport waiting outside and we need to take you straight away” the gentleman coughed, grabbing Helena by the arm and gesturing towards the door.

“But where are we going? I don’t even have anything packed!”

“You have people that need to see you, Miss Leucine. I will give you a few moments to pack a small bag. We don’t have much time”

“This better not be what I think it is and I said call me HELENA!”

With that, Helena coughed as her body started quivering not only with nerves but excitement. Her box of memories were beginning to open back up as she clambered into her basement and picked up an old kit bag she kept for emergencies. Running out the door she was reminded how much she’d let herself go, unfit and podgey. The doors closed behind her as she sat down with her bag clutched by her side. This was finally it after so many years, maybe her friends were still alive…

OOC:
Yeah... Yeah I know what you're all thinking... Don't judge this rusty bird. I need some practice...
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Aeos
ComNet Sage
 
Aeos
 
[VE-ARMY] Captain
[VE-DJO] Dark Jedi Warrior
[VE-ICS] Pirate Overseer
[VE-VEEC] Engineer
 
Post Number:  3054
Total Posts:  3141
Joined:  May 2005
Status:  Offline
  RE: Revival
December 17, 2015 5:47:42 PM    View the profile of Aeos 
She felt claustrophobic, uneased and out of place as she fought her way through the crowds on the spaceport. She had willingly isolated herself away from people, technology and conflict and suddenly being thrust back into the idea of returning to it was unsettling her every thought. Hopefully, it would be as simple as tendering her resignation and facing a dishonourable discharge after the meetings. She didn't care about the repercussions of her reputation.

Shake it off Zasati. She berated herself as she pulled tighter on the straps of the duffel bag slung on her back. Every step away from Ansion, was step closer back into her old life.

Long before the Empire was dying, she had been reduced to a paper pusher. Her career started off with a blaze as she streaked through to positions of authority yet now her record was marred with demotions, reprimands and self-sabotage yet despite all of that, they kept her bound to them. Aeos's face pulled in a frown at the memories she had buried for so long.  Ironically, her sister started off quite opposite, full of doubt and constant trouble, yet the woman has managed to become part of the top command of the Army. Aeos sighed as she bee-lined for the cantina. They were good friends before they discovered they were sisters, and somehow, she managed to fuck up one of the best things she's ever had.

Her dark blond braided hair was streaked with hours spent in the sun and her hands rough from working in the fields. She wore simple brown trousers with a beige tunic and a belt. She owned no uniform, and she also owned no weapons which in hindsight was probably a foolish idea she mused. She tried to bury her face deeper into her scarf. The paranoia has never really left her, and the less chance of anyone recognizing her, the better. Her eyes scanned across the various foods popping up on the holo-menus above. She didn't recognize anything, and settled for a slob that she assumed as soup, and sorry-excuse for coffee. It would still be another two hours before her shuttle was due to arrive.

A few collect and trustworthy shuttle paths had been allocated in the message from HQ for them to follow across all the systems. She has been avoiding all the major paths, and elected to go through the smaller ports to stave off the inevitable. She doubted she would meet any of her old platoons, and she was even more doubtful of receiving a warm welcome. The last battle came at a great cost for the Empire, and in the end they lost a war with themselves.  She had walked away from all of it, years before it happened. The constant bloodshed, war and conflict had taken it's toll on her.

How the frak did they even know I was alive? she wondered as she sipped from her coffee. Had it not been for Suna and Rin, she would have high-tailed it, but they could easily be used as leverage. She didn't put it above the Imperials. She checked the time on her analogue watch; still another hour before she could board. The annoying thing about the watch was resetting it after every hyper-jump. She didn't need anything complex on their farm. She closed her eyes as she took another sip. Thinking about them calmed her. Everything would be fine. She just had to take it one step at a time.

OOC:
Just trying to get a grip on how Ae is feeling, nothing major. -_-

http://www.vastempire.com/wiki/index.php?title=Aeos
[LoR][ESC1][ES2C][CoR][CoS][SC][EW:1][RCoD][GRoM][GRP][CCA][GC][KAD][MRT]

Qualified Combat Engineer
SM|DJR Aeos|Krath|Shades|Raven 5|VEDJ

CPO_Aeos/(=*A*=)][MC1](=*SA*=)
[This message has been edited by Aeos (edited December 17, 2015 5:51:27 PM)]
StarFruit
ComNet Member
 
[VE-ARMY] Sergeant First Class
[VE-DJO] Uninitiate
[VE-ICS] Assistant Intelligence Lesbian
 
Post Number:  792
Total Posts:  798
Joined:  Jan 2009
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  RE: Revival
December 17, 2015 7:18:16 PM    View the profile of StarFruit 
"You can't do this." His voice struggled against the cold steel that was pressed against his throat. His entire body shivered as sweat pored down his face and soaked what was left of his tattered shirt.

The drug lord chuckled, the sound chilling as it slipped between his pursed lips. The blade fell away from the captive's throat as he stood and straightened his back. "You see, what's funny about that is..." the corners of his lips twisted into a grin as he leaned down to peer into the captive's face, "I already am."

The captive's eyes flashed with fear but before he could speak his pupils dilated for a final time as the life drained from his gaze, just as the blood spilled from his neck and onto his tattered shirt.

"What a waste." The drug lord sighed as he rose again and wiped a cloth along the blade of his Treppus-2 Virboblade. He tossed the dirty cloth aside and stared at the now dead captive that was securely fastened to the crude metal chair. His frustration was evident as he lifted his foot and firmly planted the ball of his boot against the body's chest and pushed him and the chair over with a resounding thud as it struck the stone floor.

A knock at the door spun the drug lord on his heels to face it, his lips twisted into a deep grimace. "What could you possibly want?"

The steel door opened slowly and a small mousy man stepped into the room. He was dressed in simple garb with bits of pieces of mash-up armor scattered about his person. "A message came throu-" his eyes landed on the dead captive who was still tied to the chair and knocked over on the ground. "I uh, I take it you didn't get your answers."

"No I didn't." The drug lord set his Treppus-2 back to his belt and ran a hand over his face and his fingers brushed across the dark green tattoo that sat under his right eye. "I'm getting sick and tired of having to chase these buggers down." He grumbled softly as he adjusted the eye patch over what remained of his left eye.

The mousy man took another step into the room; he didn't show any fear, but he was definitely anxious about something. "Well maybe if you didn't get so mad you killed every one you captured." As he trailed off he looked at the drug lord with a faux-cautious look on his face.

"If you don't shut up you'll be next."

"Sure. Now, about that message."

The star-cheeked lord cocked his head to the side for a moment. "Yes, do tell."

"It was caught by one of your encryption webs. No one can decode it, though. Even with your scripts."

"What channel was it on?"

"One of the Naval Command channels- oh okay, bye." The mousy man was pushed aside as the drug lord rushed by him and through the door. "Your injection is ready in your room, by the way!" he shouted out the door after the drug lord.

=== Moments Later ===


It had taken no time at all to move through the small abandoned underground base that he and his men had taken over months ago. The corridors were easily traversed and he had spent so much time underground that he knew the base by the back of his hand. He was antsy, and anyone he passed in the corridors could tell by the way he sped along and nearly pushed multiple others out of the way in his haste.

It had been a long time since he felt the dire need to check his encryption webs. Nothing interesting ever came through; save for those messages that he needed in order to do his job. My job. He laughed quietly to himself at the mere thought of calling what he did a 'job'. He ran a small group of spice smugglers and had taken over an old base. That was it, right? He bought and sold drugs, he told other people to buy and sell drugs. Maybe sometimes he slit a throat here and there, but it was all necessary.

With a heavy grunt he opened the steel door that led into his personalized ComCenter. Screens of various lined the walls with various streams of data and calculations running across them at near breakneck speed. A couple of people sat at keyboards, recording data and checking messages. Greeting his workers would be the polite thing to do, but instead he made a beeline for his personal work desk.

He sat down and clicked the keyboard with a trained speed until the frequency he was looking for popped up along with the message he almost didn't want to hear.

The webs had been set up for ages, constantly listening to any frequency he could break into. Some of them were always silent so there were a handful that he had closed over the years, but there were a few that he always left open: the channels that operated within the Vast Imperial divisions.

With a few more clicks to the keyboard he opened the messaged and stared at it, unblinking.

"Vespa." His voice was stern, his seafoam gaze still locked on the screen in front of him.

"Aye, Reed?" a woman at one of the terminals answered.

The drug lord clicked the keyboard and within moments his personal terminal had shut down and locked out anyone who didn't know the encryption to get in again. "Ashton is in charge while I'm gone."

"Where are you goi-"

"Don't look for me." His face was stone as he left the ComCenter and headed to his room.

As he entered he saw, sitting on his bed side stand, a small tray with a pile of cheese like snacks sitting next to a syringe whose needle was neatly capped. The syringe was full of a clear, thick liquid. Reed grinned softly as he shut the door behind him and moved over to his bed. Gingerly he sat down and popped a bit of the cheese into his mouth before he hiked up his shirt to reveal his stomach.

With a practiced ease he plucked the syringe from the tray, uncapped the needle and slid it into the flesh around his belly button. After he plunged the liquid into his body he took a deep breath and set the now empty syringe back on the table.

With a crooked grin he peered at the pile of cheese. Might as well eat before I leave, he thought to himself as he spent the next five minutes enjoying his pile of dairy snacks.

=== Hours Later ===


The alarm that signaled the ship was re-entering real space roused him from his sleep. With a grumpy groan he sat up in his pilots chair and rubbed his face with both hands. "Fracking hell..." He grumbled as he moved his hands from his face to peer out the view port at the strange scene that was unfolding before him.

It had been so long since he'd seen so many recognizable, and some not, ships within the space of the Imperial divisions. It made his stomach turn and knot formed at the pit.

"Well... this is going to be interesting."

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Sandwich Sam
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Sandwich Sam
 
[VE-ARMY] 1st Lieutenant
 
Post Number:  780
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  RE: Revival
December 17, 2015 8:26:09 PM    View the profile of Sandwich Sam 
The years had not be kind to the Zabrak. His once golden hair had faded to a dull grey yellow. The facial tattoos had become ashen and marked with minor scars. One of his more dominant horns had been broken at an angle. A mar from some old battle with either man or beast, he could not remember. His posture was tilted to the right. The weight of his cybernetic arm was starting to lose the battle with gravity. His blue eyes had greyed. It was clear that the spark that once invigorated him had fizzled out. Although, there were times when that spark would reignite.

Sensors rang out waking Sam from his lackadaisical stupor. A ship was approaching and was still out of visual range. The signatures looked familiar, yet he found it difficult to believe.

"Who has taken over an old Vast Empire star destroyer?" Sam mumbled to himself. His droid co-pilot turned its head towards Sam. "Don't worry about it."

He started to run through the cargo he was carrying. Not that he was worried that an out of commission vessel would confiscate anything he was transporting. It was simply his usual process these days. He flipped open his stash and took a quick taste to ease his mind. He adjusted his course to give the star destroyer a wide berth.

"It would appear that that star destroyer has adjusted course to intercept," TS-01 stated. TS-02, Tombstone-2, was the name he gave to his integrated droid co-pilot. It can get lonely crossing the galaxy with just cargo.

"Great. Clearly they want something I have," sighed the Zabrak, "Can I not go a full year without being hassled by people who think they matter?"

"Evidently not," TS-02 stated coldly, "Shall I plot an escape hyperspace course?"

"I'd rather not. We are nearing our destination and this shippment isn't exactly one that is going to make me wealthy," Sam spat, "Increase speed. Let's meet them and try to get this done and over with as soon as possible."

The "Tombstone" sped off towards the approaching star destroyer. The engines hummed a slightly higher pitch at the increased speed. The frequency caused Sam's cybernetic arm to twitch a bit. It had a dying regulator that he had been needing to get replaced for sometime.

Once the two entered visual range of each other, the communications relay rang out, "YT-1000 Tombstone. This is a Star Destroyer of the Vast Empire. We would like to speak with you face to face."

"The Vast Empire huh? Didn't you guys get desolved a while back?"

"Lieutenant Zurr, that is not my place to discuss. If you would please come meet with us, we'd gladly inform you of the situation."

"Nope, thanks though. I ended my time with your ilk a long time ago," Sam sniped back. "TS-02 plot an escape vector out of here. Wait for my mark to engage the hyperdrive."

"I have orders to bring you in should you not comply willingly."

The aged Zabrak looked over to his droid co-pilot for confirmation that the route had been plotted and the ship was ready to make the jump, "Pretty sure I can out run you." He nodded to TS-02 to engage the hyperdrive.

"That is probably true sir. But we have you in our tractor beam."

Sam fumed at his mistake. Why did he talk so much? He should have just made the jump once it was ready and not worry about what they would do? It was a rookie mistake that will likily cost him more than he would care to give up. He sat beating himself up in his head as the "Tombstone" was pulled into the docking bay of the Star Destroyer.

The sounds of the docking bay hatches closing and sudden jolt from his ship settling on the platform arosed Sam from his thoughts in part. He started to think if he should go willingly or not. The jolt from the boarding hatch lowering made the choice for him. Only seconds later, he was greeted by a pair of troopers with their weapons drawn.

He slowly stood while saying, "Listen fellas, I haven't carried a weapon in years. Let's go ahead and lower those blasters before someone loses an eye."

They lowered their weapons and the trio disembarked. Sam could only guess as to their real intentions. He had been out of service for years. What do they want with him now? He has very little to offer them outside of the known trade routes. Even though he was a freighter pilot, he was hardly a good one by any measure.

OOC:
And there it is...
1LT Sandwich Sam
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Havock
ComNet Marshal
 
Havock
 
[VE-ARMY] Brigadier General
[VE-DJO] Krath Priest(ess)
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Post Number:  2291
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  RE: Revival
December 17, 2015 8:51:19 PM    View the profile of Havock 
Ayme sat back in the pilots chair of her E-9 Explorer, the Ryujin. Her eyes scanned the image of the planet Ansion slowly growing larger before her. She had been born there, grown up there, watched her parents die there. All of that was a distant memory and she had the opportunity to return to Ansion before to piece together the broken pieces of her past. This journey was nothing more than a reluctant necessity.

“2B are you sure we can’t make another jump?”

The droid made several beeps followed by a forlorn whistle.

“Yea I figured that’s what you’d say.”

The Ryujin was a solid ship with many modifications that Ayme had made herself over the years. The markings on the hull were distinctive with an orange stripe that set the ship apart from other E-9’s.  She remembered well the day she became her captain, it was one of the last times she saw her sister. Zasati had been her last remaining family member when the Army fell apart. She had a twin sister, Aryana, who died before the final battle was even fought. There had been hope that Zasati had somehow survived but that faded as each lead led to a dead end. Her relationship with her younger sister was strained regardless, they never seemed to meet eye to eye and Zasati didn’t even believe they were  related.

The comm crackled to life. “Unidentified vessel please transmit codes and enter approach vector, 1-1-9 mark 2.”

Ayme leaned forward and punched in her code clearance then started her decent to the spaceport. They only needed a few repairs and a  meal before they made their final jump to Lotaith.

“Okay 2B, I’m going to run and grab those power converters and then we are getting out of here.”

Several questioning beeps sounded at her back while she geared up.

“No I’m not going on a damn tour 2B, I’m just getting the power converters then you are gonna plug them in while I eat and then we are going to get to Lotaith and find out what the heck is going on. Now stop your belly aching you rust bucket and set up security.”

Ayme walked through the crowded  market which looked the same as every other rural spaceport in the galaxy. Ansion had a large population of farmers and that was who dominated the shacks masquerading as shops along the main road.

She finally found a proper shop with ship parts and supplies which prompted her to zig zag through the crowd and jump into the doorway. A small bell announced her arrival to the shop keeper, a stout man in a dirty tunic.

“Well hello there little lady, can I help you?”

little lady, really? Ayme sighed. “I’m just looking for some RT model 7b power converters.”

The man blinked and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “Aww come on…that can’t be all you want.”

Ayme rolled her eyes. “RT model 7b, do you need me to write it down?”

“Geeze fine.” He wondered to the back muttering to himself about women. She could have sworn she heard him say “Katash women” but that wouldn’t have made any sense so she dismissed it.

Power converters in hand Ayme made her way back through the crowd towards the Ryujin. She barely noticed the light coming from the cockpit, she only slowed her pace as she reached the top of the entry ramp which should have been closed.

Ayme’s boots came to a stop as she slowly set down the sack of power converters. Her hand slid to her blaster as she brought it to the ready. She slowly made her way forward to the cockpit then she heard a shrill shriek from 2B which sent her running.

Her blaster snapped to attention, the barrel pointed directly between two familiar eyes, as she came face to face with the intruder.

“Ayme.” The word slipped passed her lips on a breath. “It’s…I saw the ship. Then the entry code was the same, but I still couldn’t believe…” Disbelief on her face suddenly turned to anger. “You better not be here for me, I already had one messenger today, I won’t tolerate two-!”

“Stop!”

The blaster was still poised to fire as Ayme took a deep breath. “I thought you were dead Aeos. I came here for groceries because it was the only rock that was available on my way back after getting my own messenger. I haven’t seen anyone and I mean anyone from Tadath in two years.”

They both stared at each other for several minutes before Ayme  finally shook her head and put the blaster back in its holster.

“I’m going to Lotaith just as soon as 2B can get us moving. You can come with me or get off my ship.” Ayme turned and walked back towards the discarded bags.


OOC:
Just a bit of CD before the meet up, hangin' with the fam-i-ly
Prefect of the Army
PRF | BGN Ayme 'Havock' Katash | VEA | VE
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Wicket
ComNet Member
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Wicket
 
[VE-ARMY] Gunnery Sergeant
 
Post Number:  376
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  RE: Revival
December 18, 2015 10:39:33 AM    View the profile of Wicket 
The sounds of the dark alleyway kept Wicket on edge; Trash sloshing in the puddles, faint voices in the distance and the occasional scampering of small feet. “That was the last straw, Wicket. You’ve messed up for the last time, Wicket. Get out, Wicket.” His voice had a mimicking tone, nasally and higher pitched. I’ll show him… he thought.

Wicket continued walking, not sure where. He once again found himself lost and alone. This was not a new feeling. Wicket had no family when he was younger, at least, not until he joined the Vast Empire. But that was all gone now too. He had left seven years ago unannounced, not knowing what he was going to do. Where was he going? Who was he going to meet? Why did he leave? Why did I leave? A confused look came across his face.

He pulled his coat tighter as the wind howled past. “What is this?” Wicket took his hand out of his pocket, holding a plastic bag. “Oh, yeah.” Inside the bag was a small amount of spice, just enough for a relaxing night. “Might as well.” Wicket said as he emptied the contents into his mouth. Moments later, he slumped down into a slumber.

---Seven years ago---


Wicket quietly laid awake in the darkness of the barracks. Everyone else had already fallen asleep. He had spent the day packing his belongings. His time had come to say goodbye. Many of his friends had left before, leaving him with new and unfamiliar faces. Sure, Wicket still was an acquaintance with many who remained, but the feelings of family had faded away

Listening for any sign of movement and hearing only silence, Wicket slow got up and grabbed his luggage from under the bed. The handle had slipped from his hand and the luggage crashed to the floor. Wicket froze in place.

“Who… Who’s there?”  An unknown voice asked tiredly from the darkness.

Wicket did not reply. There were no more inquiries. After a moment, he carefully grasped the handle of the luggage firmly and headed towards the door. Wicket turned around and stared into the dark barracks. He wiped a tear away and proceeded to open the door. He did not look back after leaving.

While walking through the empty streets, a twi’lek called out from a corner. “Sullustan. Psst… sullustan. Over here.”

Wicket looked around and saw the green alien. “Me?” he replied, turning his head to see if anyone else was around.

“Yes, you fool. You are the only sullustan around, after all.” The twi’lek rolled his eyes. He pushed himself off the wall and walked towards Wicket. “Where are you headed?”

Wicket shrugged. “Not sure, actually. I don’t have anywhere to go.”

“I have a place for you. Come, I’ll show you.”

“Well, I don’t know… but ok!” Wicket excited responded and began to follow the twi’lek. “So what’s your name? My name is Wicket. Where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” a sly grin came across the twi’lek’s mouth.

Over the next several years, Wicket had become involved in the drug and slave trade. It was his new ‘home’. He took orders, was in charge of shipments and worked his way up through the ranks. Wicket was oblivious to the fact that he was being used, but he did not care. He was keeping busy and had companionship.

---Two hours ago---


The room was full of smoke and dim red lights. Boxes were stacked to the ceiling. A large desk took up space in the middle of the room. The same twi’lek from seven years ago sat behind the desk. He tapped his fingers on the papers that lined the top of the desk. Wicket entered the room, not quite sure why he was called into the office. “Yes, sir?”

“Where is the list?” The twi’lek demanded.

“The list,” Wicket said. He patted down his pockets feeling for the list. Not feeling the paper anywhere, Wicket smiled. “The list.”

“Yes. The list,” the twi’lek responded, growing more frustrated and angry by the second. “The list with my contacts. The list with my orders. The list with all of my shipments.” The twi’lek stood and slammed his hands on the desk. Papers flew everywhere.

Wicket stumbled back, but quickly regained composure. “You see…”

“Silence!” The twi’lek shouted, interrupting Wicket’s attempt to find an excuse for losing the list. “This is the last straw, Wicket.”

“Don’t worry! I can find it,” Wicket responded, starting to search through the papers that had been scattered over the room.

“You’ve messed up for the last time, Wicket.”

“But...”

The twi’lek pulled out a blaster pistol. “Get out, Wicket!”

Wicket jumped up and ran out of the office. Once outside, he noticed one of his shoes had fallen off during his escape. Ugh. Wicket slowly peeked his head in the room in an attempt to locate his shoe. Suddenly, a blaster bolt shot past his face, hitting the wall next to him. “You can keep it!” Wicket ran away and ended up in a dark alleyway.

---Present---


Wicket woke up to a small animal crawling over his foot. He jumped up and started shaking his foot. Off in the distance, he noticed a large ship approaching. Still tired, and possibly seeing things from the spice, he shook the sleep from his eyes. The ship was still approaching. Soon after, several smaller ships had joined. “What in the world…” Wicket checked his comm and was surprised at the message he saw. He closed the comm, brushed off his clothes and began walking toward the hangar, still only wearing one shoe.

OOC:
Who wants to make me a new avi?
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[This message has been edited by Wicket (edited December 18, 2015 10:43:51 AM)]
Aeos
ComNet Sage
 
Aeos
 
[VE-ARMY] Captain
[VE-DJO] Dark Jedi Warrior
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Post Number:  3057
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  RE: Revival
December 18, 2015 4:08:37 PM    View the profile of Aeos 
Weird Zasati thought as she passed through the different ships, spotting a familiar shape on her way to boarding her own transport. She checked her watch again. She still had thirty minutes to spare. She abruptly turned to the left, picking her way through the bustle of people. It was an E-9 E, just as she figured. She smiled wryly to herself. She bought this model as a gift for her sister years ago. Heck, this one even had similar markings. She looked around, trying to see if the pilot was close-by, but couldn’t find any. A twi-leki shoved past her, running to catch his departing transport. She stumbled forward, barely catching her balance.

“Can I help you Ma’am?”

It was a trandoshan, seated on some type of small corridor hover-craft. He was probably part of the cleaning crew. She must have zoned out for several minutes, drawing his attention. They often had spacers high on spice, simply drifitng and taking up space in the corridors.

“Yeah, actually, is the pilot around?”

“Pilot disappeared several minutes inside, not sure when he will be back. Why?”
“I have a fond memory of this model, wanted to chat to him about the specs.” Zasati repied.
“Well, you could try and wait around.” The cleaner replied.

Zasati checked her watch again and shook her head.
“I have to run, but thanks for checking.” She muttered, surprised at the friendly interaction. The cleaner shrugged and reactivated his craft and continued on his way.

Zasati closed the last few feet between her and the craft, and placed her hand on the bottom part of the hull. She walked along the contour, tracing the ship back with memories until she reached the ramp. Her hand stopped short of the keypad for the it. Desperate to be closer with the familiarity of the ship and her memories , she half-joking punched in the code of her sister’s ship’s handle before turning to walk away. She was being ridiculously inappropiate.
It was the soft-hiss behind her that made her freeze. Her eyes widened as she slowy turned back.

“No way…no way.” She mumbled disbelievingly.

She couldn’t help herself, even though everything inside was screaming to get away. Zasati walked up the ramp, through the corridors, her hand tracing the familiar texture and patterns on the dated walls. Even the smell was the same. The cockpit was humming softly as the lights keyed in at her entrance. Numbly she fell into one of the pilot seats, staring at the flickering panels of lights. Amye was alive. This was her ship. A film of them smiling together uniform was stuck on the window, along with others including, Jed, Bishop, and Whiskey. Zasati blinked rapidly. Havock's twin. They've never met, and she wondered whether the twin have surived the recent years.

She was distracted from her thoughts at the beeping of a droid, and stood up, spinning around only to be met with the barrel of a blaster her face.

“Ayme.” The word slipped passed her lips on a breath. “It’s…I saw the ship. Then the entry code was the same, but I still couldn’t believe…” Disbelief on her face suddenly turned to anger. “You better not be here for me, I already had one messenger today, I won’t tolerate two-!”

“Stop!”

The blaster was still poised to fire as Ayme took a deep breath. “I thought you were dead Zasati. I came here for groceries because it was the only rock that was available on my way back after getting my own messenger. I haven’t seen anyone and I mean anyone from Tadath in two years.”

They both stared at each other for several minutes before Ayme finally shook her head and put the blaster back in its holster.

“I’m going to Lotaith just as soon as 2B can get us moving. You can come with me or get off my ship.” Ayme turned and walked back towards the discarded bags.

Zasati stared numbly at the spot Havock vacated. Ayme survived...This was her chance to redeem their relationship.  She fell back into the seat, still in shock. Ayme returned minutes later, and leaned against the frame of the doorway, arms crossed, her face void of expression as she stared at Zasati. Zasati met her gaze, her eyes softening as she took her sister's features. She regretted her instinctive anger and paranoia towards Havock. She pushed herself up and closed the distance between them within seconds as she grasped Ayme in a firm hug.

"I'm sorry-I'm so sorry for everything." She whispered into Ayme's hair. Havock remained frozen and unresponsive for several moments, before awkwardly, hesitantly returning the hug. Zasati pushed her away to arm's lenght, studying her elder sister up close. Her finger traced a faint scar that has lingered on Havock's jawline.
"Your tools got the better of you as always." She queired, awkwardly trying to break the ice.

The crackle of the radio broke the moment;
"Docking time is expering in two minutes. Please desposit additional credits to remain stationed or face removal." a voice said on the comm. Havock pulled herself out of the hug, and crossed over to the pilot's seat.
"Requesting clearance for take off." She turned around to face Aeos.
"You're catching a ride with me I take it then."
Zasati strained a smile and nodded.
"I guess I am."

Two hours later
"I thought you were dead." Zasati muttered into her glass of whiskey.
"I thought the same." Havock replied curtly as she refilled her drained glass. They were already through half the bottle, yet it seemed to have no affect on Havock.
Zasati cocked her head to the side as she studied her sister again. They've only been in eachother's company for two hours, but she could see how the latter years has changed Ayme. In Zasati's company, she was always an open book, full of light, conversation and fire, but now the conversation was guarded.
Perhaps, it was because she grew older as you have. Zasati tried to counter her own doubts. She tried to shake the fog from her head and blinked.

"You okay?"
"Haven't had a drink in four years Havvie. Not used to the stuff."
Havock snorted at this.

"Finally gone soft huh?"
"I guess," Zasati muttered pushing the half-empty glass away from her. She pulled her knees to her chin and stared at Havock.

"I'm so happy to see you. Can't wait to tell Rin." she mumbled drowsily.
"Rin?"
"My husband."

Whiskey spat from Havock's mouth before she briefly choked.
"That's what you've been up to? You got married?"

Zasati grinned lopsidedly. The stress of the past few days since receiving that recall message was clouding with the whiskey and finally ebbing away.

"Ayme...I'm terrified of returning."
She knew she was jumping from one topic to the next. The room was spinning just a bit.

"How come?" Havock queried.
"We both know I defected. The Empire was weak, and I took it as an oppertunity to disappear."
A hand suddenly grabbed her collar and Havock forced Zasati's gaze to hers.

"Listen to me, this stays between me and you. You will keep silent, you will keep your mouth shout otherwise they will put you to a firing squad. You've been a good soldier, and you've given a lot for them. Trust me, there is too much paperwork for them to focus on you. Understand?"
Zasati nodded mutely.

"I'm so sorry Ayme. I should never have turned my back on you. I was, I -"
"Zasi, I don't want to talk about this right now. Going back, seeing you suddenly, it's a bit too much."

Again Zasati just nodded numbly. She could not blame her sister for not wanting to talk. She would not push her.
"You know, I have a daughter, her middle name is Ayme, she looks like you, and definitely gets into all sorts of trouble as well." It was perhaps not the best way to break the tension, but she was desperate for any form of interaction.
"Do you have a picture?"
Her face broke into a grin at Havock's request.
"Yeah, give me a moment. And you haven't told anything about what you've been up either. What happened to the Vast Empire? What happened in your last assignment?"

http://www.vastempire.com/wiki/index.php?title=Aeos
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CPO_Aeos/(=*A*=)][MC1](=*SA*=)
[This message has been edited by Aeos (edited December 18, 2015 4:09:57 PM)]
Havock
ComNet Marshal
 
Havock
 
[VE-ARMY] Brigadier General
[VE-DJO] Krath Priest(ess)
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[VE-VEHC] Brigadier General*
 
Post Number:  2297
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Status:  Offline
  RE: Revival
December 18, 2015 8:36:38 PM    View the profile of Havock 
"Yeah, give me a moment. And you haven't told anything about what you've been up either. What happened to the Vast Empire? What happened in your last assignment?"

Ayme watched as the slightly inebriated Zasati searched through her bag for a small datapad. She was sitting at a table , having a drink on the Ryujin with her sister, the entire scene was surreal.  Forty-eight hours ago Ayme thought that she was the last surviving member of her family and that everyone she knew had died in a fiery battle that still gave her night terrors.

A datapad being thrust in front of her face shook her out of  her reverie. “See, her name is Suna…Suna Ayme…” Zasati’s eyes got suddenly sad and far away.

Ayme took the datapad and smirked as she took a closer look. “That poor kid, she really does kinda look like me.”

Slowly the datapad was returned to the table and Ayme took another long drink from her whiskey. “There was a battle, an offensive…Corellians. Things went…well they went FUBAR to put it lightly. I was coordinating the squads from the command ship, I had to order a full retreat, ARGO. We scattered, everyone was running for pods or shuttles whatever we could get to. Then there was nothing but explosions and fire.”

Zasati kept her eyes downcast and looked up at a few points during the tale. Her voice was soft when she did speak, as if she was afraid of spooking her sister back into silence. “Then what did you do?”

“I searched for a few months, looking for you or anyone really. Ended up getting really plastered and misjudging my landing on Kuat. Took out a decent sized building, and cost me three months working at the spaceport to pay off the damage. Lucky for me I’m really good at mechanics or it would have been even longer. Didn’t really matter though I ended up staying because I couldn’t think of anywhere else to go.” Ayme lifted her glass and finished off her whiskey then poured another.

“Get some sleep Zee. We will be at the rendezvous in thirty minutes.” Ayme stood and drained her drink before turning the glass upside down and placing it on the table. Zasati was looking down at her hands on her own glass, lost in thought. Ayme reached over and placed her hand on her sisters shoulder. “It’s damn good to see you Zee. I mean it’s crazy, and I’m still not convinced your not a hallucination, but really good.” With a final squeeze Ayme walked out of that galley and made her way to the cockpit.

-~~_-~~_-~~_

beep, twerp, tweeeeeep, beep, beep, boop.

“Gah, what the heck 2B!” Ayme rubbed her eyes as she shot upright in the pilot’s chair. Her eyes shot to the small droid then suddenly back to the controls as the ship joined in by sounding an alarm.

With a push of three buttons and the pulling back of a lever the Ryujin came out of hyperspace. The stars slowly went from lines to bright dots visible all around her except for where the large eclectic gathering of spaceships blocked their view.

“Is this it?”

Zasati came in from behind and settled into the co-pilots chair, her eyes remained on the cluster of vessels as she waiting for Ayme to respond.

“Lotaith.” The word came out as a breath. “Frak me, I’m back.”

They both jumped slightly as the comm crackled to life. “Vessel, Ryujin, you are clear to dock. Follow the coordinates we are transmitting.”

“Well isn’t it nice to be expected.” Ayme sarcastically muttered. “2B make sure all security parameters are in place.”

“You don’t trust this?”

Ayme punched in the coordinates. “I’ve learned it’s better to be prepared.”

Zasati smiled slightly. “You really have changed Havock.”

“Not so much, you’ll be yelling at me for doing something stupid and reckless soon enough.”

-~~_-~~_-~~_

“General, glad to have you back. You as well Captain.” Ayme glanced around the hanger of the Super Star Destroyer she had been directed to. There was a hectic yet excited energy to the place. Nothing and nobody seemed to be still in the large space.  “We are asking all of our arrivals to meet in our aft lounge. Once everyone is accounted for we will move to the conference room for the briefing.”

Ayme and Zasati gave each other a look but did not speak as they followed the man who was a Sergeant based on his uniform. The level of activity was not dissipating as they made their way up two decks then back to the lounge. The Sergeant pushed the button and the door opened to reveal a large room with a bar on the far end and several tables as well a booths littered throughout the room.

A few people were already mingling throughout the room. Ayme shrugged, “Well Ae, can I buy you a drink?”


OOC:
So boys and girls, here you go our nice vague meet up location. Army and Navy folks will be coming to this location. If you all would like to post arriving and seeing each other again go for it. Plan for a briefing in the near future that will get us more organized at that time.  Carry on.
Prefect of the Army
PRF | BGN Ayme 'Havock' Katash | VEA | VE

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Merrick
ComNet Member
 
Merrick
 
[VE-ARMY] Brigadier General
[VE-DJO] Initiate
[VE-ICS] Senior Company Agent
 
Post Number:  644
Total Posts:  656
Joined:  Feb 2002
Status:  Offline
  RE: Revival
December 18, 2015 9:36:37 PM    View the profile of Merrick 
Of course Fury had figured out how to find her, but she still wasn’t sure why he’d gone to the trouble. Merrick hadn’t even been in the army still when the Empire had finally broken apart. Now he claimed the band was getting back together and for some reason it had actually piqued her interest. It had been amusing, playing pirate, but in her heart she’d always known she was military, through and through. So, she set a course for Lotaith to meet up with the other remnants of that old life, dubious about how many others would actually respond to the recall. It’s not like she had anything better to do with her time, these days. Since drifting away from Osk, she’d pretty much just spent her time wandering, picking up odd jobs here and there to fund her nomadic lifestyle. It had been a long time since she’d been around other people consistently though, and there was a measure of trepidation.

There were ships as far as she could see; many more than she had expected. Merrick had brought Straggler out of hyperspace at a decent distance from the rendezvous point, just to be on the safe side. It always paid to be cautious. One thing her ship didn’t have was an ounce of subtlety; people tended to notice an Infiltrator – even a heavily modified one - showing up unannounced, and she was hailed almost immediately. There was silence on the other end when she identified herself, followed eventually by instructions to link up with one of the SSDs nearby. She set the ship down in the hangar, and drained her hip flask before venturing out into the bustling expanse. A navy crewman saluted her and asked her to follow him, eyeing the weapons she was carrying.

“You won’t need those here, General, I assure you.”

No one had called her that in a good long while, and it was a strange feeling. She raised an eyebrow at the man. “I think I will hold onto them anyway. You can never be too careful.”

He nodded in silence and led the way to one of the lounges, where there were already quite a few tables and booths filled with semi familiar faces, but no one she had known well during her own service. The crewman excused himself and left her standing in the doorway. Merrick made her way to an empty table and sat with her back to the wall, surveying the room. Most of the other occupants were keeping to themselves or their groups, but she could see another woman eyeing her with some interest from across the room. Merrick ordered a drink and nursed it while the tall blonde woman’s curiosity got the better of her, and she approached Merrick’s table with a smile, and a younger woman in tow.

“If I had to guess, I’d hazard you must be Merrick. I’m known hereabouts as Havock. This is Aeos.”

Merrick nodded and gestured to the seats opposite her. “Nice to meet you both. Havock, you’re fellow General if I recall correctly. Can I get you both a drink?”

Both the other women nodded, and the three of them shared some drinks and some tales of where they had been for the past few years. Merrick let them do most of the talking, and kept one eye on the door. She hated waiting and not knowing what was going on. For the moment, they were all just a bunch of former imperials waiting to hear what their new positions would be.
Jester Squad
Verastinian Republic - Minister for Subversion
-----------------------
To thy protection fear and sorrow flee, and those that weary are of light find rest in thee.
If you love something, set it free. If it doesn't come back, hunt it down and kill it.
[This message has been edited by Merrick (edited December 18, 2015 10:18:33 PM)]
Karash
ComNet Member
 
Karash
 
[VE-ARMY] Gunnery Sergeant
[VE-ICS] Pirate Swabbie
 
Post Number:  410
Total Posts:  424
Joined:  Nov 2008
Status:  Offline
  RE: Revival
December 19, 2015 3:04:16 PM    View the profile of Karash 
“A lounge? What do you mean a lounge?” Karash barked out his questions.

“As I said, all our arrivals will be meeting there.” The young man was slightly taken aback by the bizarre looking creature in front of him.

“All your arrivals? Who else is here?” Karash’s tone appeared to be becoming even more manic.

“I can’t say, everything will be explained at the briefing, in the mean time you can wait in the lounge.” The unknown man quickly turned and broke into a near run trying to get away.

“Oh good! I didn’t realise I had been summoned for a reunion cocktail party, I suppose you would like me to dress for the occasion!”

Karash stood for a few moments, seething, in the hangar and trying to decide what he was going to do next. The outward display of anger was a front for the panic that had begun to set in, he was terrified by the idea that he could be stood with his old comrades in just a few moments. More terrifying still was the idea that he would be presented with a room full of unknown people. Every action he had taken over the past few years had been an attempt to block out everything that he was now being greeted with.

‘Of course it could be a trap. This entire thing an elaborate plan to wipe out what was left of the old group.’ It was not the first time the thought had crossed his mind in the past few hours. ‘No, if they wanted you dead they could have done that by now. Besides you were hardly that important, this is far too much effort for someone as insignificant as you.’

“You’re stalling.” Karash violently jerked his head as he spoke to himself.

“Excuse me sir, can I help?” Another rather startled young man now spoke to Karash.

“I seriously doubt it. If you were any good at your job you wouldn’t be stood here directing this bunch of refugees, you’d be out there getting yourself shot!” Karash shouted as he began to walk away.

“You are all meant to meet. . .” The now shell-shocked young man was not allowed to finish.

“I know, in the lounge. What time shall we expect the firing squad? I’ll make sure to have had enough to drink!” Karash spat his unwanted reply without turning to acknowledge the group of people now staring at him.

The relatively short walk had not calmed the former medic down, if anything he was now on the verge of some sort of nervous breakdown. All he had to do now was make his way around the next corner and all would be revealed.  Karash could hear peoples’ voices and was straining to try and recognise one of them but he could not make anything out clearly. He was also aware of the fact that his mind could now be playing tricks on him, after all it would not be the first time. For just a moment he allowed himself to forget where he was and began to think about the last time he been in a similar situation; it was an Imperial Ball, years ago, with the Raiders. He remembered that he had spent the entire night trapped in an elevator whilst the rest of the squad had turned the Ball into a scene that was reminiscent of a Hutt owned Cantina.

“If I see any of you now, I am not responsible for my actions.” Karash whispered under his breath to his former Squad.

There were people already stood in groups, talking and drinking with old friends as if it were some sort of school reunion, in some ways it was. As he stood there surveying the scene Karash could not get over how calm everyone seemed to be; there was no joyous laughter as old friends were reunited and no raised voices as former enemies tried to settle old scores. As he stepped further into the room he could feel the unease within the place, clearly nobody really knew what was happening.

‘They’re not here.’

Karash’s eyes darted about the room in an attempt to find someone he recognised and there were many vaguely familiar faces scattered about the place but no one he could name. He could see that everyone else was doing the same thing, trying to find another person to latch on to. There had been many times in his life when Karash been stood in a room full of people and still felt completely alone; this was another one of those times.

“Go away.” Karash hissed as a person approached him, he was unsure if it was a forgotten comrade or a waiter but either way he did not care.

He had made his way to corner to sit and observe the room for a little while longer when something caught his eye. He could only see the back of their head but he was certain of who it was. Karash’s face twitched in a strange way; he was not sure if he was resisting a smile or having some sort of seizure. It definitely was one of his former squad mates, they had not all died after all. For a moment he allowed himself to be relieved but he could not bring himself to go over to them. He had spent the past few years trying forget everything that had happened over his military career and he was now not sure if he was ready for it all to come flooding back.

‘I should have brought some medical supplies. If Havock is here we will probably be dead within the hour…’
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Helena
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Helena
 
[VE-ARMY] Senior Sergeant
 
Post Number:  499
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Status:  Offline
  RE: Revival
December 19, 2015 3:55:38 PM    View the profile of Helena 
The ride was turbulent to say the least, each rock would send Helena to slam against the window, each time she would reset her position, her body would be sent into the side of the vehicle again. The journey was brief and before she knew it, she was hurling towards the front seat as it came to an emergency stop.

“Miss Leucine, you have arrived. Please remember to keep your belongings with you at all times and you have been arranged to meet in the lounge. I’m almost 100% sure that you are not alone. There are others here. Enjoy!”

“Enjoy? These people probably don’t even remember who I am” Helena mumbled, stepping out onto the safe ground from the horrendous ride. Turning back at the man, she gave a small smile and a nod as a thank you before taking a deep breath and looking up at the building. This was it… There was no turning back and she had to face everyone. She didn’t exactly leave on her own terms and she was unsure about any rumours others had heard about her departure. She surely was not going to bring it up in conversation if she didn’t have to. Infact, she was hoping she wouldn’t recognise anyone at all. Hardly easy being previous squad leader and assistant squad leader of various squads. Variety was the spice of life after all?

Throwing her heavy bag over her shoulder, she made a beeline towards the entrance. As Helena pushed the door open she was greeted by a footman.

“Hello there, may I ask your name?”

“No, you may not. Now please, show me the way to the lounge? I have orders to be there” Helena scoffed, keeping her bag close to her body and narrowing her eyes towards the man.

The scrawny gentleman’s complexion went pale as he pointed towards another set of doors where light chatter and clinking of glasses could be heard. Helena nodded, reluctantly pushing it open. Without making eye contact, she made her way to the bar and ordered an ale. Picking up the glass to her lips, she allowed the cooling liquid to slip heavenly down her throat. She hadn’t tasted an ale since she was last at one of these “dos” and the nostalgia rushed through her body.

She was very glad no one had actually attempted talking to her yet. She wasn’t ready. She didn’t even know what to say. Sitting down in a nearby unoccupied corner, she began to people watch and eavesdrop on various conversations. As her eyes scanned the room for possible people she might know, her stomach turned.

“No, it can’t be… People from my old squad? Still alive?” Helena refused to move, her stomach flipped and her body ran cold. She watched from afar, trying to pluck up the courage to talk to someone.
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Sandwich Sam
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Sandwich Sam
 
[VE-ARMY] 1st Lieutenant
 
Post Number:  782
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  RE: Revival
December 19, 2015 4:50:58 PM    View the profile of Sandwich Sam 
The two troopers were in the lead with Sam a few steps behind. "I might be able to make it back to the ship and blast out of here before they know what hit them," he thought as he slowed to a stop, "At the very least you could make them work for what they want."

The Zabrak spun on the spot and bolted for his ship; the escort took a few moments to realize what was taking place. They turned to see their guest making a clearly aged run towards his vessel.

"Disable his ship," he radioed to the docking control room as he pulled out his binders, "Lieutenant! Why do we have to do this the hard way?" Sam paid no mind to the calls. His focus was on making it back on to his ship before the hatch closed and it was going to be close. He leaped for the ramp as it hit waist height and then he felt his body go ridged.

The trailing trooper had taken a shot and landed a stun bolt squarely in the Zabrak's back. Sam's hands slammed against the ramp and flipped him around. His body hit the docking bay floor with a solid thud. The wind had been knocked out of him. He felt that had he landed any harder it is possible his eyes would have joined his breath.

"Alright, let's get him on his feet," the trooper said pulling Sam's hands forward. The trooper snapped the binders on his wrists just as the stun was beginning to wear off.

The pair lifted Sam up by his arms and carried him out of the bay to the corridor. The shuffle of Sam's feet was his attempt at walking, but the effects of the stun were still lingering. Every time he tried to stop in effort to regain his balance, the two troopers gave him a strong tug to keep him moving.

"Alright, alright! Can we at least remove these cuffs?" Sam snapped, "I'm not going to try anything. You've won." They continued to drag him without acknowledging his protests.

"Did they move the brig? I've never been an expert on these SSD's, but I was pretty sure it was a few decks down," Sam retorted as they pasted the turbo-lifts.

"You aren't going to the brig. You would if I had any say, but the others are meeting in the lounge."

"Others? Could you fill me in? I might rather go to the brig over meeting these 'others.'"

The troopers chuckled at the statement. "At least they have some sort of humor. Probably not favorable to me though," he thought.

They stopped at what Sam assumed to be the door to the lounge. They gave him a shove through the door, which opened quickly enough to avoid the Zabrak's body slamming into it. The lounge was occupied by a number of people; none of which were immediately recognizable to Sam.

"Hey! Don't forget your blasted binders!" Sam shouted at the pair of troopers with his writs in the air. A few heads turned to look at the commotion. They hurried back and snapped off the binders.

"Thanks," said Sam acidly as he headed towards the bar.
1LT Sandwich Sam
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StarFruit
ComNet Member
 
[VE-ARMY] Sergeant First Class
[VE-DJO] Uninitiate
[VE-ICS] Assistant Intelligence Agent
 
Post Number:  797
Total Posts:  798
Joined:  Jan 2009
Status:  Offline
  RE: Revival
December 19, 2015 5:16:53 PM    View the profile of StarFruit 
"Redthorn-class Scout ship, Renegade Ghost, you are clear to dock." The voice crackled through the com channel that Jacen had left open.

He sighed. "Oh goody, on my way."

There was silence on the com for a moment, and he could have sworn he could hear confused whispering. "Sergeant First Class Jaenna Caldwin, respond," the voice came through again.

"I did. And it isn't Jaenna anymore." Another sigh rolled over his lips as he started to flip switches on the control panel. "Do a DNA test when I get on board if you don't believe me."

"Board with caution uh... Caldwin."

"Always do." He flipped the com off as the engines on the Renegade Ghost roared back to life and he slowly began to approach the SSD.

=== An Hour Later ===

With a hand cradling the crook of his elbow he stepped into the lounge. A rather disgruntled look was plastered on his face as a couple of officers approached him. Instantly, his seafoam gaze narrowed as he peered at them. "What now? I just had to get stuck by four needles just to prove I am who I say I am."

"We just need your weapons, Sergeant," one of the Officers said softly as he eyed the Treppus-2 blades on either of his hips.

Jacen grunted and pushed by them with ease as he made his way to the bar. "Fat chance." As he continued on his way he heard the Officers mumbling about how no one would turn over their weapons. He simply chuckled as he found a stool and sat down with a huff.

The hustle and bustle that surrounded him clashed oddly in his head. The last time he had been aboard an SSD was years ago. It hadn't been many years but it was enough of a gap that his entire body felt weird being surrounded by uniforms and steel. It was hard for him to remember the time when he felt at home within such walls, when seeing a fellow uniform didn't make him cringe, when hearing the title 'Sergeant' didn't make him want to instantly introduce his fist to the mouth who uttered the word. Why am I even here. Even the mental question to himself was rhetorical. He had no idea why he was there and he realized that as he lifted his bowed head long enough to peer about the rest of the lounge.

He ran a hand through his choppy auburn hair and rubbed at the stubble that had begun growing along his jaw line due to not caring about shaving every day. As he adjusted his eye patch he took note of just how many familiar faces were scattered about. None of them made him want to jump from his seat and go say 'Hi', but one of them made him want to jump out of the exhaust port of the SSD as soon as the recognition fully hit him.

"Frack." He sighed as he instantly turned away from the blonde general with the hope that she hadn't seen him. With a slap of his palm to the top of the bar and a soft grunt he quickly caught the bar tender's attention. "The strongest, brownest liquor you got. Double."

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TRP  || Sergeant First Class Jacen 'StarFruit' Reed || 2SQD || 1PLT || 1COM || 1BAT || 1RGT || VEA || VE
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[This message has been edited by StarFruit (edited December 19, 2015 5:22:24 PM)]
Gurlanin
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Imperial Supporter

 
Gurlanin
 
[VE-NAVY] Senior Chief Petty Officer
 
Post Number:  710
Total Posts:  745
Joined:  Dec 2011
Status:  Offline
  RE: Revival
December 19, 2015 10:14:09 PM    View the profile of Gurlanin 
Strill exited hyperspace a good few miles from the rendezvous point. Grent was still being incredibly cautious at this point, and Strill had not survived two years on anything less. Yes, the Admiral's message had contained all the correct codes and was on the proper frequencies, but who was to say that it was the Wookie himself who sent the message. How many pirates and scavengers had pillaged the wrecks of capital ships long lost in battle? How many of those had managed to recover highly classified information from within those ships' data banks? It was impossible to tell who was actually behind the message.

Grent and the rest of Strill and only had contact with one person from the old days: Zev Trikarian and the remainder of the fleet that joined him after Corellia. It had been quite by chance, at first. Whilst beginning the hunt for the third name on the Intelligence list, Strill stumbled upon some familiar looking ships. Having heard, and verified, Strill's callsign, Trikarian had personally greeted Grent and offered the ships of the Second Empire as a base of operations and resupply point, in exchange for a few missions that the Empire needed doing. As far as Grent, and the rest of Strill, were concerned, the Empire they had signed up to serve lived on in the Empire that was welcoming them with open arms. It also helped matters that Grent had served under Trikarian before, and respected and trusted the man.

The comms console beeped, and Grent's HUD informed him that it was on the secure channel set up between Trikarian and Grent. He accepted the call, and the blue figure of the Kuati man appeared in the cockpit.

"This is a pleasant surprise, sir," said the squadron commander, "what can I help you with today?"

Even though he was a hologram, Trikarian did not look in a jovial mood. "Chief," the hologram replied, "I trust by now you have received word from Admiral Stormz?"

"Aye, sir, though we didn't know if..."

"It's genuine," interrupted Trikarian, as if anticipating Grent's statement.

Grent did not know what to say in response. "Are you planning on attending the rendezvous, sir?"

"I am, and I want Strill there too."

"We're already on station, sir. We weren't sure if it was a trap, so we were hanging back."

"Very wise, Chief. I want you to keep me appraised of the situation. If anything, and I mean anything, happens, I need you to tell me straight away. All ships that arrive or leave before I get there."

"Understood, sir," replied Grent.

"Keep your guard up, Chief. We don't know how we will be greeted," said Trikarian, terminating the call.

Grent was right to be concerned. He had no idea what would be happening next, nor what would happen to his squadron. One thing was certain: This would not be simple.
SCO | SCPO Gurlanin | Iron One | S:58 "Strill" | W:101 "Blade" | ISD II "Paragon" | TF: Aurek | 2nd Fleet | SC | VEN | VE

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Garryll Gates
ComNet Disciple
 
Garryll Gates
 
[VE-ARMY] Colonel
[VE-DJO] Sith Vitiator
[VE-ICS] Privateer Captain
 
Post Number:  2144
Total Posts:  2159
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  RE: Revival
December 19, 2015 11:23:45 PM    View the profile of Garryll Gates 
“Colonel. Er...Colonel? Colonel!” the annoying voice at the other end of the comlink Garryll had at his ear intensified with each yell. Most unusual; he could’ve sworn he was getting new orders while everything was going to hell around him. The voice demanding his attention hardly sounded like any of his bosses. Mentally, he dismissed it, but it was accompanied by an earthquake a moment later, snapping him from his sleep.

His pistol was out of its holster, in his fist and came halfway up in aim for a moment before he remembered where he was. “What did you want-” he glanced at the soldier’s rank pins - “Lieutenant?”

The man, dark-skinned and well-built, raised his hands in surrender. “Just wanted to inform you we are close to our destination. Orders said to take you to these coordinates, around Lotaith.”

“Not as familiar with the Navy’s stompin’ ground,” Gates replied, rolling his feet from where they were propped on one of the shuttle seats to the deck, landing with a clank. “What’s with the change in venue?”

“Comms are a bloody mess, Gates,” replied one of the other passengers. Garryll looked sharply at the owner of the voice, surprised he’d been called out by name. A man with a nondescript face but for his piercing red eyes glared back at him. “Name’s Orr.”

“You were ARC, right?” Gates replied. “We did a couple ops together, if I recall.”

“Your company pulled my team out of a hot mess,” Orr replied. “But after Corellia, everything went to hell.”

“Neither Tadath nor Lotaith are 100% - we lost too much of the fleet for that,” Orr continued. “But not people are trickling back, so hence the meetup, around Lotaith.”

Their shuttle landed heavily on the deck of the hangar of the Super Star Destroyer. Once upon a time, this would have been exciting, but nowadays, it was a  simple, everyday type of occurrence.

“Been a couple long years of roaming,” Gates said, changing the subject as they descended the shuttle’s ramp. “Training planetary militias, teaching military strategy to ‘em, and so on.”

“I’m surprised that you didn’t make your way back faster,” Orr commented.

“Command was gone. There was no direction,” Gates replied, turning left at an intersection and ignoring a salute. “I thought I might as well just do my own thing.”

They stopped in front of the room that had been indicated to them. “Well, this is me, at least,” Gates said. “We’ll see if we can make a difference again, huh?”

Company Commander of Phoenix Company |Executive Officer of the Army | Sith Viator of the Dark Jedi Order | Lord Commander of Eagle Sect | Captain of the
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XO/COLGarryll Gates/3SQD/1PLT/1COM/1BAT/1RGT/Tadath/VEA/VE [SCP][RoM][ICE] [IH] [CCA] [BC] [SRP] [AS-4] [ES1] [CoS] [EW1] {RESx3} [ESC09] [RoTx2] [CRoS] [AoT] [CoZ][CoDS][VT][CRoM][SoS][GRoM][KAD][RCA][*QW 12*](3.1)(1.1)

SL/VVT Gates/Eagle Sect/Lopen/VEDJ/VE (KC1) (SoY)
Longtime leader of Blackjack Squad
For Tadath, for the Empire.
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